


Lost And Found

by OrangeMeringue



Category: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Cartoon 2018), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: A fair amount of angst but a lot of growth and finding happiness too, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Draxum is kind of a bad father figure, Family Bonding, Hurt/Comfort, Separated AU, long lost brother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:07:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 41,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25938637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrangeMeringue/pseuds/OrangeMeringue
Summary: When Lou Jitsu destroys Baron Draxum's lab in a fight to escape and takes the alchemist's turtle experiments with him, Draxum quickly discovers that a certain softshell was left behind.
Comments: 69
Kudos: 282





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is just my take on the Separated AU I've seen going around in the Rise fandom lately. I thought it would be interesting to explore exactly how much everything would change if Draxum ended up raising one of the turtles -namely, Donnie- so here we are

Draxum simply couldn’t believe he’d made such an error. He could have sworn he’d planned every single detail. He’d left no room for any oversight whatsoever.

He’d sent his new gargoyles to retrieve Lou Jitsu from the Battle Nexus -which they’d done with surprising ease- and locked him up as soon as they brought him back to the lab. Everything was just as it should have been. Draxum was seconds away from achieving his dream and mutating four young turtles into unbeatable warriors.

The only thing he hadn’t counted on was Lou Jitsu _caring_ for these creatures.

The Battle Nexus champion had sprung himself from his cage, beating Draxum back and wrecking his experiment in the process. Draxum had held him off for as long as he could, but the more the two of them fought, the more he came to realize that his lab was suffering for it. Anything flammable had been completely immersed in fire, his green ooze -and years of work- bleeding out from the pillar in the center of his lab, completely useless. And, worst of all, Lou Jitsu was now the one beating _him_.

Draxum quickly found himself on his hands and knees, his captive nowhere in sight as he fought against his aches and sores to push himself back up. But when he finally managed to steady himself against a nearby wall, he saw that the condition of his lab had only worsened. Lou Jitsu had somehow managed to free all his failed mutant warrior experiments, and they were now running ramped amongst the flames, scrambling for the nearest exits, desperate to escape not only the fire, but also their captor.

Then, all the way across the lab, Draxum saw him. Lou Jitsu was standing in the furthest possible doorway, turtle experiments clutched in his arms as the fire burned and crackled around him. The look on his face was something Draxum could only describe as pure, seething rage, and he knew as soon as Lou Jitsu turned his back that he had lost.

Using all his strength to keep his legs from buckling, Draxum slowly made his way through his lab, taking the path paved out by the fire licking the debris on the floor. The heat was almost unbearable, but there was no way Draxum could just leave. He summoned a hoard of vines, throwing chunks of singed stone and metal out of his way with reckless abandon. His eyes scanned everything as quickly as possible. Desperate. Looking for something -anything- that had survived.

Then he heard crying.

Draxum spun around, but there was no one else there. Then he realized the crying wasn’t from any grown adult or fully conscious being: this was the cry of a child. So Draxum’s search resumed, vines flailing rapidly, but cautiously. If one of his experiments was alive, it wouldn’t remain that way for much longer. Then one of his vines chucked a dented piece of metal against a nearby wall, and he saw it. Facedown, arms and legs splayed across the floor, was one of the turtles.

A brief smile graced Draxum’s face, and he knelt on the floor in front of the abandoned turtle, the threat of fire and the collapsing lab all momentarily fading away.

Why was he still here? Draxum supposed he must have been dropped in the scuffle because, otherwise, he would be with the other turtles in Lou Jitsu’s arms, being carried away from his destiny and all Draxum had created him to be.

But he was here with Draxum now, and it was the first stroke of luck the alchemist had had ever since Lou had escaped.

Slowly, Draxum reached down and picked the turtle up. It squirmed and cried for a moment, then seemed to realize Draxum was trying to save it and gripped onto his palm, shaking, curling in on itself as Draxum shielded it against his chest. The turtle’s shell was softer than it was supposed to be, Draxum quickly realized as he ran his thumb down the surface, stopping the motion as he brushed against a portion of scarred tissue. He hadn’t bothered to check the material of their shells when procuring them, but he also hadn’t expected to be swindled into acquiring a _soft_ turtle.

But the shell was a problem for another time, and certainly not one Draxum couldn’t work around. Right now he had to deal with escaping the fire slowly swallowing his lab.

“Gargoyles!” he bellowed, and, on cue, Huginn and Muninn flew into the room.

After a quick survey of the situation, they wasted no time latching onto Draxum’s shoulders and using their combined strength to lift him off the ground, quickly carrying him out and above his lab before taking a sharp turn and dropping him back down on the path a ways away from the burning building.

“My life’s work…” Draxum could do nothing more than stare, taking in every single flicker of fire and particle of smoke that arose from the inflamed structure. Every experiment he’d ever worked on had been destroyed, leaving him with nothing more than his two new gargoyle assistants and a baby turtle with a soft shell.

“We are so sorry…that Lou Jitsu destroyed your lab,” Huginn said, “that’s L-O-U J-I-T-S-U.”

“But at least your loyal, hard-working gargoyles saved your life,” Muninn added.

“It will take years to rebuild,” Draxum said, speaking the words as he realized them, “I must begin again.”

With a heavy heart, Draxum directed his gaze to his last remaining experiment: the turtle that was now curled up and fast asleep in the palm of his hand.

“Well,” he said, “at least it won’t be from scratch.”


	2. Growing Pains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raising a kid is never easy, especially if that kid just so happens to be a soft-shelled mutant turtle. Draxum’s plate is pretty full these days, but here are some highlights from his caretaker years.

In the thirteen years that Draxum spent watching his turtle experiment grow and mature, he never considered himself a father. Draxum took care of the mutant, yes. He also fed and clothed him, and taught him everything he knew about science, alchemy, and how to fight. But Draxum was not a father, he knew that much. 

It was Huginn and Muninn that had first suggested he even give the turtle a name. It was about a week after the initial destruction of his lab, and the four of them had taken refuge in the ashes and rubble, setting up a lean-to as a temporary shelter. And it was one particularly rainy night, when all of them were resting beneath the propped up sheet of metal, that Muninn had proposed Draxum name his creation. They would all need something to call him if he was going to be staying with them, after all. 

So Draxum allowed the two gargoyles to take turns spitballing names, Huginn holding the baby softshell, curled up in a slightly damp blanket in his lap, making sure to speak quieter than his counterpart to avoid waking him. Then Muninn suggested the name “Donatello” -Donato for when any of them didn’t feel like pronouncing the whole thing- and Draxum had to admit he liked it. So from that point on, the baby turtle was Donatello. 

Even as the turtle grew, however, Draxum’s main priority was the repair of his lab and the acquisition of all his lost materials. There were many times when he was forced to put Huginn and Muninn in charge of watching Donatello while he worked, depriving himself of two sets of helping hands simply because the toddler couldn’t be trusted around heavy construction. One small slip up or distracted maneuver could cause a piece of metal or stone to crush the softshell, and that would be the end of Draxum’s last mutant warrior. And, as if that weren’t enough, Donatello was especially vulnerable because he had -as Draxum discovered only a few years into raising him- unusually poor eyesight, and required a pair of corrective lenses in order to see clearly. Draxum had already wasted so many resources forging replacements for the lenses after Donatello had lost and broken at least five pairs. And with a record like that, there was no way Draxum could trust him around heavy construction yet. 

So, while Draxum went about his repairs, Donatello observed. And as he got older, he began to build as well. He conducted his own experiments in his private room, using old tech and tools Draxum had given him to create whatever came to mind. He built small robots, toy cars, and whenever Huginn and Muninn complained to Draxum that something was broken, Donatello was always rushing to fix it. There were a few times that Draxum had to abandon his own work to come and put out an accidental fire, but as Donatello grew, so did his knowledge and experience. 

By his pre-teen years, Donatello was allowed to start helping Draxum rebuild his lab -under the careful watch of both Huginn and Muninn, of course. 

The turtle began inventing more advanced robots to help with the construction: some of them flew, some of them carried materials, and a few of them even did a portion of the work themselves. Draxum would be lying if he said he wasn’t impressed by Donatello’s creations. His inventive and daring nature reminded him a bit of himself, but Draxum never dwelled on thoughts like that for very long. 

As the lab’s completion began growing closer and closer, Draxum realized that if Donatello was going to become a fearless mutant warrior charged with protecting all of the Hidden City, he was going to have to be trained. So, as Donatello’s inventions all began picking up the slack to rebuild the lab, Draxum began teaching the turtle how to fight. 

It was a slow journey, not only because Donatello’s shell was nowhere near as protective as Draxum had hoped, but also because the turtle simply had no interest in learning to fight in the first place. He tried to explain to Draxum several times that he was perfectly content building and learning. He wanted to stay in his room and work on his tech, reading books in his free time and pirating television off of the surface’s networks when he got the chance. 

But Draxum knew if Donatello didn’t learn to fight soon, it would only get harder and harder to teach him. So, against the turtle’s wishes, the two of them spent hours at a time -occasionally even full days- in the training room. While Donatello protested, complained, and occasionally even screamed and cried in defiance, Draxum never yielded. He would simply wait for Donatello to calm himself, and eventually, the turtle stopped giving him trouble altogether. 

When Donatello was close to mastering hand-to-hand combat, Draxum allowed him to choose a weapon from his newly completed armory. 

After trying his hand at a few -katanas, nunchucks, and sais, namely- he eventually settled on the bo staff, a sturdy and reliable weapon that Draxum agreed fit his fighting style. He allowed Donatello to practice with the staff until, finally, after an excruciatingly large number of days and nights locked away in his forge, Draxum managed to recreate the four mystic weapons he’d lost in the fire all those years ago: an Ōdachi, Kusari-Fundo, a pair of Tonfas, and a Kusarigama with a spiked ball at the end of the chain, each of the weapons infused with a different type of magic. The latter Draxum had forged specifically for Donatello, imbued with magic very similar to his own. He had expected the turtle to take to his new weapon eagerly and without question once presented with it, but, of course, nothing was ever that simple when it came to Donatello. 

The turtle rejected the Kusarigama as often as possible, largely preferring his bo staff, and, against all of Draxum’s expectations, began making adjustments to it. He added pieces of tech, replacing wood with metal and consistently upgrading it until it was an entirely new weapon, equipped with blades, lasers, and even a communication device. At first, Draxum thought about punishing him for all the needless renovations, then he realized his influence could be even better served. 

Draxum charged Donatello with giving  _ himself _ a full renovation. He was to build his shell a protective casing, refurbish his corrective lenses to be better equipped for battle, and make any other additions he so desired. Of course, Donatello jumped at the opportunity to build something -especially now that it had been greenlit by Draxum. 

So, between their training sessions with both his tech bo and the Kusarigama, Donatello spent his time crafting the additions Draxum had requested. He worked consistently and often without any breaks, occasionally going for nights on end without sleep until he would either collapse during training or Huginn and Muninn would intervene, forcing him to eat, drink, and sleep before returning to his projects. 

Then, after about a month and a half of this, Donatello had managed to create not only a battle shell to cover his back, store his weapons and a collection of four metallic arms, but also an entirely new pair of corrective lenses with a slicker design, a tech band around his wrist to control all his inventions, and four tech clamps -one for each of his limbs- that stimulated his muscles to make him a stronger and faster fighter. 

It was far beyond what Draxum had expected: Donatello, with his tech, was so close to the mutant warrior he had always dreamed he’d be. Of course, there was the concern of what would happen if he was disarmed or his tech malfunctioned, but Draxum figured that was a problem for a later date. As of now, Donatello was on his way to being the perfect warrior. And for only fourteen years of life experience under his belt, he was at a good place. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you might be able to tell, I've added a few things to this fic that haven't been confirmed in canon (ie. Draxum forging the mystic weapons) but not much about Draxum's side of the story has been released so I just decided to take a few liberties. Then again, it's not like most of this story is remotely canon  
> (Fun fact: The glowing purple weapon from Mystic Mayhem that Donnie decided not to take is called a kusarigama! It took an embarrassing amount of time to actual figure that out)  
> (Second fun fact: The first name of Donatello -the Italian renaissance artist- is Donato. So that's where his nickname is this AU came from)


	3. The Relative Calm Before The Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Draxum's lab finally rebuilt to its full potential, the time has come for him to replicate the experiment that caused its destruction in the first place. But, of course, there are a few obstacles that need to be cleared before said experiment can be completed.

Today was the day. It was a nice -if not slightly tepid- Saturday evening in the Hidden City, and it was the day Donatello had been waiting for all his life. 

Draxum’s lab had finally been completed. After thirteen long years of nothing but hard work, the day they had both been preparing for throughout Donatello’s entire life had finally come. Tonight, Draxum would use his newly reinvented green ooze and carrier bugs to recreate the experiment that had created Donatello all those years ago. There was only one problem: a mystic cat-like agent from the Council of Heads had stolen Draxum’s only supply of ooze that very morning. 

But what Draxum saw as a setback, Donatello saw as an opportunity. 

The turtle took a deep breath, straightening the straps of his battle shell as he made his way down the corridor toward Draxum’s quarters, not in any particular rush to catch him before he changed location.  _ This _ was going to be Donatello’s opportunity to prove himself. He would track down and capture the agent all on his own, then he would return the ooze to Draxum and gain not only his respect but also his approval. It was a foolproof plan. Donatello was finally going to put all his training to good use. 

He took a right down a nearby hallway, putting himself only a few doors down from Draxum’s room. His pace quickened, then he saw the door open and out flew Huginn and Muninn, both looking uncharacteristically anxious until they spotted Donatello approaching from down the hall.

“Ah, D-Man!” Huginn greeted, fluttering over to perch on his right shoulder as Donatello came to a slow stop. 

“Hello, Huginn, Muninn,” he greeted, puffing his chest out as Muninn landed on his left shoulder. 

“What brings you ‘round these parts?” Muninn asked, “you’re usually in your little workroom by now.” 

Donatello bristled: he never did like the gargoyles’ instance in calling his lab a “little workroom”. It was undermining and slightly humiliating, but he did his best not to let his annoyance show. 

“I was coming to talk to Draxum, actually,” Donatello said, “so if you do not mind-“

“Ooh, you might want to take a raincheck on that, buddy,” Huginn said, “the boss is still a little miffed about that agent stealing his stuff.” 

Donatello wasn’t swayed.

“That is perfectly fine,” he said, “I was planning on talking with him about the very subject. So,  _ if you don’t mind _ -” he shook his shoulders, and the two gargoyles fluttered up above his head, “-I will be going now.” 

Without waiting for either of them to reply, he continued making his way down the hall, stopping briefly in front of Draxum’s door before grabbing the handle and pulling it open. 

“Draxum! Do I have the solution for you!” 

Donatello let himself in without hesitation, letting the door close on its own behind him as he folded his hands and proudly held his head up to wait for Draxum’s response.  Unfortunately, just as Huginn and Muninn had warned him, Draxum was in no mood for theatrics. 

The alchemist growled, irritably adjusting the horns on his mask as he pushed himself up from his desk facing the wall. He turned to Donatello with a piercing glare of disapproval, and the turtle instantly felt his confidence sway. 

“ _ What _ is it?” Draxum asked. 

“Uh…” Donatello had to take a moment to regain his nerve, “well- I believe I have found a resolution for your agent problem!” 

“Is that so?” 

“Yes!” 

“Tell me.” 

He took a deep breath, feeling that if he tried to stand any taller he would stumble and lose his balance. 

“Send  _ me _ to retrieve the ooze!” he said, and Draxum opened his mouth to speak, but Donatello beat him to it, “I can use my tech to track its energy signature, and when I find it I will bring it  _ and _ the agent directly back to you! I have the entire mission planned out, so you won’t have to worry about a thing!” 

He watched eagerly as Draxum contemplated his words, the silence between them quickly becoming unbearable when all Donatello wanted to hear was some form of positive confirmation. 

“No.” 

Donatello deflated. 

“What?” 

He waited for Draxum to elaborate, but he simply turned away, picking his journal up from his desk to begin flipping through the pages. 

“ _ What _ ?” Donatello repeated. He knew he was testing his luck but pushing him, but there was no way he was giving up without an explanation at the very least.

“Oh, I said ‘no’,” Draxum explained, “I’m sorry, I thought you heard me. Is your hearing starting to go along with your vision now?” 

Donatello felt his face flush with embarrassment from the reference to his poor eyesight, but managed to steel his nerve and continue to press for justification. 

“I heard you  _ fine _ , Draxum,” he said, “but why can’t I go retrieve your experiment?” 

“Because I said so.”

Donatello huffed: Draxum was starting to get irritating. 

“Yes, but  _ why _ ?” he asked, “surely there must be some reason you don’t want me to go. So just tell me. Have I not met my training requirements for this week? Did I disappoint you somehow? Whatever it is, I-”

“That’s enough, Donato.” 

Donatello groaned, “why won’t you just talk to me, you old goat?!” 

He knew his mistake as soon as he said it, and clapped his hands over his mouth as Draxum turned to face him, closing his journal with a quiet thud. 

“You are underprepared,” Draxum said, catching Donatello off-guard, “the agent has fled to the surface, a place  _ you _ know nothing about. To send you up there would be reckless and irresponsible. Even if I managed to acquire a cloaking broach in a very limited window of time, your skills are no match against those of a highly trained agent. You are not ready. Do you understand?” 

Not eager to invoke Draxum’s wrath any further, he simply nodded, lowering his hands to his sides and bowing his head. 

“Yes.”

“Leave me,” Draxum said, turning away from Donatello to place his journal back on the desk, “I have already hired two bounty hunters to retrieve the ooze. I will let you know when they return.” 

Ignoring the pang of jealousy in his chest, Donatello nodded and turned back to the door. He swung it open, only to find Huginn and Muninn hovering awkwardly beside the doorway, giving him identical sheepish grins as he glared down at them. 

“ _ Leave _ ,” Draxum repeated, and Donatello swung the door shut with a deafening slam, no longer caring about his level of noise as he turned and sprinted off down the hall.

\---

After retreating to his lab and taking a while to focus on his projects to calm himself down, Donatello found himself once again looking forward to what would happen as soon as Draxum’s experiment was returned. 

Yes, their argument had put a slight damper on his mood, but it was by no means the first disagreement they’d ever had. Donatello knew how to cope with Draxum being mad at him by now, so he knew all he had to do to make the incident go away was hole up in his lab, mindlessly upgrading his tech bo until Huginn and Muninn came to fetch him or apologize on Draxum’s behalf. And that’s just what he did.

Like clockwork, about an hour or so after settling down to work, Donatello heard his door open and looked over his shoulder to see the two gargoyles flutter in.

“Hey, Donato,” Muninn greeted, “watcha working on?” 

He perched on the right edge of Donatello’s desk, and Huginn swooped down to perch on the right. 

“An ice cream machine,” Donatello answered sarcastically, momentarily stopping his upgrade to close the hatches on his tech bo and shrink it into its handheld form before pocketing it in the back of his battle shell. Huginn and Muninn often -though usually unintentionally- liked to mess around with his tech, and if there was one thing he didn’t want them touching, it was his highly destructive weapon. 

“Oh, nice!” Muninn said, picking up a stray bolt and beginning to juggle, “can we have some?” 

“I think he was being sarcastic,” Huginn said. 

Donatello snatched the bolt away from Muninn, pooling all the tech and tools scattered across the table into one pile in front of him, smacking Muninn’s hand away when he reached for the power drill.

“Is there something I can do for you gentlemen?” Donatello asked. 

“Oh, right!” Huginn suddenly remembered why they were there, “those two bounty hunters came back with the agent, the ooze,  _ and _ a test subject. Draxum’s ready to start the experiment, so he’s just waiting on you.” 

Donatello perked up: he assumed that when Draxum was ready he would simply start on his own and wait for him to show up. It wasn’t often he got waited for. 

“Alright, I’ll head straight down,” Donatello said, pushing himself up from his seat as the gargoyles both kicked off from the desk to flutter after him. 

“This is gonna be so sweet!” Muninn said, dropping down to land on Donatello’s shoulder, “uh...this is gonna be sweet, right?” 

Donatello nodded in confirmation, shifting under Huginn’s weight as he decided to catch a ride as well, “tonight, gentlemen, Draxum and I are going to make history.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to give a quick thank you to you all for giving this story support so far! Thank you so much for the comments and kudos -each one of them really means a lot to me  
> Also I know these chapters have all been pretty short, but the next one is going to be significantly longer (originally this one was going to be part of the next, but I decided it was too long and made it its own)


	4. Just Like Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for Draxum's ultimate plan to be put in motion, but a visit from a few very familiar uninvited guests puts him right back at square one.

Donatello, Huginn and Muninn met Draxum outside the door to the center of his lab. No words were exchanged as the two gargoyles fluttered from Donatello’s shoulders to Draxum’s, but the alchemist did give the turtle a small nod that he returned. It was their unspoken agreement to remain civil for the rest of the night, because this experiment was far bigger than either of them, and it would do no one any good to forsake it over some petty squabble. 

Draxum pushed the doors open, and the two began making their way into the lab. 

Everything was just the same as when Donatello had last seen it, except that the pillar of green vines and orange light in the center was glowing to illuminate the entire area, and two of Draxum’s containment cells were now occupied: one by a hissing cat-like yōkai that was trying -unsuccessfully- to teleport out, and the other by what looked like a human teenager.

Donatello grimaced at the sight: if Draxum had taught him anything, it was that humans were nothing but bad news. They had driven all of yōkai kind underground, forcing them to live solely in the Hidden City while their descendants now roamed the surface free and unaware. The closer the two of them got to the contained human, the more uncomfortable Donatello began to feel, reaching back to gently brush his hand across the bottom of his battle shell, taking comfort in the fact that, if needed, he could grab and activate his tech bo with ease. 

“If you’re the guy who keeps calling about the calamari: fine, it’s pig butts!” the human said suddenly, “but the crab cakes are real.” 

Donatello couldn’t believe it. He knew Draxum needed a human test subject for the first round of his experiment, but this couldn’t  _ actually _ be the one he was using...could it? He didn’t even seem like he knew what was going on- nevermind that nothing he said made  _ any _ sense whatsoever. 

“I assure you I have no interest in your...petty cakes of crab,” Draxum said. 

Without warning, Huginn and Muninn sprung from Draxum’s shoulders and slammed against the barred vines of the human’s cell, making him shriek and flinch backward, the two gargoyles giggling at his reaction. 

“But we  _ would _ like to hear more about those pig butts,” Muninn said. 

“Are you serious?” Donatello snapped, “now is not the time for antics and you know it.” 

But Draxum didn’t appear interested in the human anymore. Now he was leaning over the cell belonging to the cat yōkai -AKA, the agent that had stolen his ooze. He reached in through the bars and the yōkai hissed and backed away, but Draxum wasn’t fazed. 

“So nice of you to return my vial,” he said, then snapped the yōkai’s collar off of its neck, pulling back to reveal a small vial of green ooze in the palm of his hand. He then turned back to the human, looming over him as Donatello puffed out his chest to try and look equally intimidating. 

“You are about to be part of an experiment that will change the very nature of humanity,” Draxum said. 

“Alright!” the human cheered. 

This wasn’t a terrible outcome, Donatello supposed: at least the human was willing, and far less likely to give them any trouble. 

Donatello stepped up to the pillar, reaching for the control panel, eager to at the very least help Draxum by booting up the system, but the alchemist beat him to it, powering on the panel before the lights in the pillar began to flash green and orange. Donatello did his best not to let the small rejection bother him, even if it was usually  _ his _ unspoken job to boot the machine up before Draxum even stepped in. 

The lights above began to swirl and flash, drenching the lair in shades of sickly green and neon orange. Then Draxum poured the contents of the vial into the control panel, and they both watched as it traveled upwards, snaking around the pillar in a separate tube until it reached the very top, oozing out into the containment area of the carrier bugs. 

Even more green lights began to blink to life as the bugs began drinking in the ooze, then Draxum flipped the switch to release one, and it came zipping down to land on his outstretched finger. 

Donatello watched intently, taking every mental note he could think of as Draxum made his way back over to the human’s cell, dropping the vines around him with a flick of his wrist before making them curl around the human’s arms, legs, and torso. 

“So...is this gonna hurt?” the human asked. 

“It will,” Draxum replied nonchalantly, “if I’m doing it right.” 

Then the carrier bug shot forward and landed on the human’s head. The ooze drained from its body as the human shrieked, and as soon as it was no longer glowing with green light, it flew away.

“Hey,” the human said, “that wasn’t so-” 

He cut himself off with a sudden scream of pain, and Donatello took a step back as his body began to glow and morph. 

The turtle had never seen anything like this before. Sure, he’d participated in Draxum’s experiments before, but they had never resulted in so much...anguish. The human screamed and writhed underneath his restraining vines, the sound of popping joints and uncomfortable sloshing filling Donatello’s ears even underneath the cover his goggles provided. He took another step backward, composure slipping as he stared up at the human with a look he didn’t often portray: fear. Was this what it had been like when  _ he _ was created? Was he really a product of such suffering and chaos? As much as he liked to claim he could stand equal to Draxum in his succeed-at-any-cost methods...this was something else entirely. Even if the teenager was a human, surely he couldn’t have done something bad enough to deserve  _ this _ .

Just as suddenly as it began, the mutation process finished. The boy that was once a regular human had been transformed into a large purple fish-like mutant with clawed hands and wide, darting eyes. Draxum dropped the mutant from his vines, and he let out a terrifying, garbled scream. 

“I just got used to acne, now this?!” the mutant wailed. He took off running without another word, and Donatello lunged to chase after him, then paused when he saw Draxum turn away, looking unbothered as Huginn and Muninn began to cackle from their spots on his shoulder. 

“Should I go retrieve him, Draxum?” Donatello asked hesitantly, afraid of the answer he might get. 

“The mutation worked!” Draxum cheered, ignoring his question completely, “just like it did all those years ago. Just like it did with  _ you _ , Donatello.” 

Draxum placed a hand on his shoulder, and Donatello straightened his posture, giving him a proud smile as he pushed his thoughts about the mutated human to the back of his mind. 

“And now you can create even more just like me,” Donatello added eagerly. 

If he was being honest, that was the real reason he was excited about the whole experiment. There was the scientific aspect, of course, and Donatello wanted to do anything he could to help change the yōkai world for the better, but that wasn’t everything. If Draxum could replicate his experiment, he could create even more mutant turtle warriors. Then Donatello could be the one to teach and train them, helping them grow and improve in the way Draxum did with him. He could have brothers. He could have -and this was  _ not _ a word he often cared to use- family. 

Then Draxum dropped his hand from his shoulder, and Donatello snapped himself out of his thoughts. 

“Yes,” Draxum said, turning back to the center pillar, “we are so close.”

He turned to walk away, then stopped in front of the last occupied cage. 

“I will deal with  _ you _ later.” 

Draxum shot a pointed glare towards the yōkai agent, who simply growled and bared its fangs, no longer intimidated by his threats of violence. 

“So when do we begin?” Donatello asked, “we’ll need a new human subject, probably, of course, but how soon can we recreate the experiment? Tonight? Tomorrow?” 

“We will see,” Draxum answered vaguely. 

Donatello opened his mouth to rapid-fire another series of questions, but Draxum shushed him by holding up his pointer finger, turning away and beginning to pace in front of the pillar. Donatello deflated, but remained quiet, looking over his shoulder to find that Huginn and Muninn had abandoned their perches and were now poking the yōkai agent with a stick through the bars of the cage. 

Just as Donatello was about to tell them to knock it off, there was a sudden banging sound coming from one of the nearby pipes, and he whipped around just in time to see four figures land on one of the upper platforms with a series of shrieks and grunts. 

Draxum gasped, Donatello stepped forward to get a better, and his mouth fell open in pure shock. Three of the intruders were none other than -and Donatello double-checked  _ several _ times- turtle yōkai. It was clear from not only their skin color but also their shells and appendages. The largest wore a red mask, the smallest an orange one, and the last a blue mask. And, as if the situation wasn’t already shocking enough, the turtles were standing side by side with a human girl -a teenager by the looks of it- and all of them seemed completely fine with her presence. 

Oh, and the four also happened to be brandishing weapons clearly stolen from Draxum’s armory- the red-clad turtle with his pair of magic tonfas, the orange-clad turtle with his magic Kusari-Fundo, and the blue-clad turtle with his magic Ōdatchi. The sight of the stolen mystic weapons was enough to send Donatello’s mind reeling, hands shooting around to his battle shell to grab and deploy his tech bo. Where had he left his Kusarigama again? Oh, right, the training room. It hardly ever left there in the first place: he hated using it unless specifically instructed.

“Alright, you incredibly, unusually buff bookworm and turtle- turtle? Turtle accomplice!” 

The red-clad turtle didn’t seem as certain about Donatello’s species as he was of theirs. 

“Hang on, are you a turtle?” Red asked as the other two groaned, “you’re green- are you just a really weird frog?” 

“Dude!” Blue snapped. 

“Hey, this is important!” Red growled. 

Donatello didn’t know what to say, especially since his mind was still reeling from the appearance of the intruders alone. He looked to Draxum for an answer, but the alchemist was equally distracted by the invaders. 

“I think he’s a turtle,” Orange said, then gasped, “guys! What if we’re related?” 

“Alright, we’re getting off task!” Red said, waving his arms to draw attention back to him, “give us back the little guy, and you’ll walk outta here with your horns and shell still attached!” 

Donatello's grip on his tech bo tightened: everything about these turtles was throwing him off his rhythm. They were loud and brash, and not in any way he was used to. They were bright -colorful, even- and seemed to sport cheery attitudes even when faced with such an adverse situation. And even more bizarre was the fact that Donatello was getting a serious feeling of deja vu. The turtles, against all odds, felt  _ familiar _ . And he had absolutely no idea why.

“Uh, shouldn’t we also stop them from creating crab men?” Blue chimed in. 

“Good note,” Red said, “okay, give us the little guy, stop creating crab men-”

“And a ride home!” Orange added, “in a limo! With a hot tub! And pizza!”

The human groaned, tucking the green bat she was holding underneath her arm as Red continued to try and piece together his list of demands, Blue starting to crack up while Orange just kept trying to add things on. Judging by the human’s reaction, this kind of situation seemed to happen a lot with them. 

“Okay, stop creating crab men, and you’ll walk outta here-”

“Raph, why don’t you take it from the top again?” Blue suggested. 

So Raph was the big guy’s name? Interesting. Not only was he the largest, but he also appeared to be the group’s leader. Donatello made a mental note to watch out for him. 

“Here goes,” Raph said, “first, you apologize to the dog thingy-” 

“Let’s do this! Aprillllll O’Neil!” 

Without another word, the human -April, apparently- lunged forward. She swung her bat up over her shoulder as she spiraled down towards the lower level. Donatello took a series of quick steps backward, throwing his tech bo up to shield his face in preparation for the collision, but thankfully she swerved to the right mid-drop and landed with a thud against the cat yōkai’s cell. She began to hack and claw and the vines, but Huginn and Muninn quickly intervened, carrying her up away from the cell as they began to fight mid-air. It was an even match from what Donatello could tell: between April’s bat and raw determination and Huginn and Muninn’s gargoyle strength, it was definitely too early to call. 

“Donato!” Draxum called, and he looked over to see the alchemist readying himself for an attack, “prepare the battle bot!”

Donatello deflated at the order: not only was his battle bot untested, but he’d made it to use only at the ends of fights to turn the tide when they were losing. There was no need to activate it yet. 

“The battle bot is still in  _ beta _ !” Donatello stressed, “we can take them without-”

“ _ Now _ !” Draxum ordered, and Donatello knew better than to refuse him after that. 

So he quickly powered on his wrist tech, typing in a few commands to the bot all the way on the other side of the building. He took a few cautionary steps back as Draxum threw his arms forward, and a wave of purple vines erupted from the ground and slammed against the platform where the turtles were perched. 

Raph and his team reacted quickly, jumping up and onto the vines before beginning to sprint down them, headed straight for Draxum. 

Donatello silently urged his bot to hurry up, running quick, split-second double-checks on his limb clamps to make sure they were still fully operational. Then he heard the sound of huge footsteps growing steadily larger as his bot approached the lab, and seconds later it slammed straight through the left wall, earning screams of surprise from the three turtles still racing down Draxum’s vines. 

For a split second, all of Donatello’s fears erased as he stared up at the 50-foot bot of his own creation, metal pulsing with purple light as it crossed the room to put itself between Draxum and the intruders, bellowing and roaring before grabbing the ends of the vines and snapping them backward. 

The turtles screamed as they ricocheted and spiraled to the ground, slamming head-on into one of the pathways, cracking the concrete and creating a huge crater in the floor where they landed. 

“It worked!” Donatello cheered, pumping his fist in the air. The battle bot roared in confirmation, and Donatello felt his smile widen. 

“Capture those specimens!” 

Donatello faltered at Draxum’s order. 

“‘Specimens’?” 

Draxum had never referred to another yōkai as a specimen for one of his projects before. So what made these turtles so special? Why was Draxum so intent on capturing them?

“ _ Now _ !” Draxum said, snapping Donatello out of his thoughts. 

“Get them!” he shouted up to his battle bot, then typed the command into his wrist tech for good measure. 

The bot roared and charged forward, and at the same time, so did the turtles. Donatello watched at the edge of his metaphorical seat as Raph and the others sprinted straight up to his creation. The bot struck the ground seconds after they dove out of the way, then Raph and Orange split off as Blue shot forward, slicing through the bot’s right ankle with the blade of his sword. 

“No!” Donatello cried. 

The bot shrieked and staggered, metallic wailing echoing off the walls of the lab as it slammed its fist further into the ground. Adapting quickly, it drew its arm back with a handful of rocks clutched in its palm, then chucked them down at the quickly approaching red and orange-clad turtles. 

Donatello held his breath. 

The turtles dodged all the rocks, jumping and sliding over and around them until Orange released the chain of his weapon and Raph grabbed onto the end. With a battle cry drowned out by the battle bot’s own wails, Orange hurled Raph forward, allowing him to slam his tonfas straight into the bot’s face. 

Donatello gasped as his creation crashed to the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust that swept over both him and Draxum. When it finally cleared, there was no time for either of them to stop Blue from driving the blade of his sword straight through the bot’s neck. 

Donatello almost dropped his tech bo. There was a pain in his heart that he wasn’t able to shove down, and he found himself tearing up, watching with wide eyes as the three turtles landed sloppily back in the crater they’d created minutes before. Donatello had spent  _ months _ on that battle bot. It had taken countless hours of work and dedication to finish, and these turtles had destroyed it in mere seconds. 

“Accidentally impressive,” he heard Draxum say, snapping him out of his daze and reminding him that there was still the possibility of another fight. 

“With a little bit of training, you could be as formidable as I’d hoped.” 

That sentence made no sense to Donatello, and apparently, the three others were equally confused. Their tired yet concerned expressions were enough to make him realize that they, realistically, had no clue what they had gotten themselves into. 

Nevertheless, Blue continued to exude confidence, “okay, well, great, and since you’re surrendering-”

Draxum interrupted with a scoff, “Baron Draxum does not surrender.” 

“Okay, well when he gets here we’ll deal with him- oh, ho ho! I see, you’re doing that whole sinister, talking in the third person thing.” 

“Only  _ Raph _ can use the third person,” Raph growled, “alright, guys! Time to put our training to use!” 

Raph and Orange lunged forward, Blue following close behind seconds later, and Donatello raised his bo staff to ready himself for their attacks. The first two turtles attacked Draxum, Orange swinging his weapon up and around his own body to try and get an angle to catch him off-guard while Raph distracted him with fist-to-fist combat, quickly proving to be almost equally as strong as the alchemist. 

Then the blade of a sword slammed against his raised tech bo, and Donatello was quickly thrust into his own battle with the blue-clad turtle. 

“So, what’s  _ your _ deal?” Blue inquired, planting his feet and using the strength behind his sword to slowly push Donatello back, “helping this weird guy with his gross experiments?”

“You destroyed my battle bot!” Donatello snapped, ignoring the turtle’s questions as he tightened his grip on his bo. 

Quickly switching hand positioning, Donatello knocked Blue’s sword out of the way and dove to the right, slamming the end of his tech bo against his side before jamming his knee against his middle. 

Recovering quickly due to the protection from his shell, Blue swung with his sword, slicing through the air inches above Donatello’s head as he ducked to dodge. Then he grabbed Blue’s wrist, catching him and his sword mid-swing before delivering a hard kick to his midsection, sending him stumbling backward and crashing to the ground. 

Then Draxum slammed the concrete with his gauntlet, and the force sent all three turtles shooting backward, flipping heels-over-head until they wound up in a pile several feet away. 

“And that’s why Baron Draxum-” 

His declaration was interrupted when Muninn suddenly dropped from the sky and hit him on the head. 

“M’sorry, boss,” he managed to say before collapsing against the ground. Then April dropped down right on top of him, Huginn in one hand and her bat in the other, and began stomping the two of them against the ground. 

Donatello’s mouth fell open: he’d heard a lot from Draxum about the cruel and reckless nature of humans, but he’d never expected they would be  _ this _ violent. With the way April was pounding Huginn and Muninn into the ground, he suddenly felt grateful that his battle bot hadn’t gotten such treatment before its untimely demise. 

Seeming to finally take notice of the other’s presence, April froze momentarily before giving a thumbs-up to her turtle friends, which they returned without hesitation. 

“Enough of this,” Draxum muttered. 

Summoning a wave of brown vines from the ground, he wrapped them around April, pinning her arms to her sides and forcing her to drop her bat before she was shoved to the ground in front of the turtles. 

“April!” 

Raph and his team were by her side instantly, first checking to make sure she was alright, then turning on Draxum and Donatello with nearly identical expressions of anger. 

“You did  _ not _ just do that to our friend!” Orange said. 

He lunged forward and threw the end of his weapon, the chain barreling past Draxum and Donatello’s heads before pulling taught right as the end was engulfed in flames. Donatello took a cautionary step back, knowing better than to let his guard down now that the weapon’s magic had been activated. Thankfully, Orange seemed just as caught off-guard by his weapon as Donatello was: obviously none of them had any idea exactly what the tools they held were capable of.

Then the weapon lurched forward, shooting up towards the ceiling and dragging Orange with it. The turtle screamed as he took off, unable to release the weapon as it slammed him against the walls and ceiling all around the lab, then took a hard left and began bouncing against the very top of the center pillar, quickly causing the green lights to flash red and electricity to shoot down the structure. 

“Oh, come on- no!” Donatello groaned. With damage like that, a core overload was imminent. 

Then the weapon spiraled back down and slammed orange against the ground, extinguishing itself and slipping out of his hands as soon as he landed beside Raph, Blue, and April. 

“Woah!” Raph gasped, “hey, Mikey, that was awesome! How’d you do that?” 

So Mikey was the orange turtle’s name? Donatello made another mental note. 

“I don’t know, man!” Mikey admitted, “I was just swinging my weapon like this and all of a sudden-” 

The end of the weapon burst into flames once more and took off dragging Mikey behind it for a second time. 

“Let me try!” Raph said. 

He began swinging his tonfas around, and after a few seconds, they burst to life with red magic. He slammed them together and they shot him slamming into the wall behind him, creating a large dent before he slid down and collapsed on the ground. 

He gave the others a weak thumbs-up, “mine works, too!” 

Donatello let out a groan of irritation, giving a look to Draxum to silently ask what they were supposed to do, but the alchemist was still preoccupied watching the turtles bumble around, trying to figure out how to activate their stolen weapons. 

“Can’t wait to see what mine does!” 

Donatello looked back just in time to see Blue running towards Draxum at top speed, and barely managed to register his name -Leo- being called by one of his friends as Donatello dove in front of Draxum and raised his tech bo in defense. 

Leo’s sword sparked with blue magic, and Donatello screwed his eyes shut as he braced for the downswing. 

There was a small gust of wind, and electricity snapped at his fingertips, but otherwise, nothing happened. 

Slowly, Donatello opened his eyes to see Leo staring at him and Draxum with a look of terror, sword raised above his opposite shoulder, sweat beading his forehead as his hands began to shake. The sword -for whatever reason- hadn’t sliced through Donatello’s tech bo as he’d predicted. Nor had it made a portal like it was designed to. Just as Donatello was about to look to Draxum for an answer, the sword suddenly began to vibrate and pulse with blue magic. With a flash of light, a portal opened beneath Leo’s feet, and he sunk into it with a scream.

Seconds later, another portal opened a few feet above the first one, and Leo and the sword shot out from it, quickly disappearing in the first before reappearing in the second once more. This process continued without interruption, the cycle of Leo’s disappearance and reappearance growing faster and faster until he began to meld into a blur of green and blue. 

“Draxum,” Donatello lowered his tech bo with a sigh, “what is going on? Why don’t we just throw them out while they’re distracted and injured?” 

Donatello saw no reason to hesitate: Leo was trapped in a portal loop, Raph still had yet to push himself up after the impact with the wall, Mikey hadn’t stopped bouncing off the walls and ceiling ever since his weapon took off, and April was still restrained by vines, trying to cut herself out with her teeth, but ultimately getting nowhere. 

“This is all wrong,” Draxum said, ignoring Donatello completely, “you fight like untrained buffoons! But under  _ me _ , you could become true warriors!” 

Donatello could only watch in confusion as Draxum summoned another wave of purple vines from the ground. With three disciplined arm strikes, Draxum snatched the turtles up and slammed them to the ground beside their human friend. With their arms and legs restrained they were unable to use their weapons, and Draxum finally had their full attention. 

“Turtles!” he said, “why are you trying to stop my plans?! We are all in this together!” 

Donatello groaned, the noise of discontent quickly growing into a scream as all his bottled rage and confusion finally surfaced. 

“Oh, why do you even need them?!” he asked Draxum, “you have  _ me _ !  _ I’ve _ done everything you asked!  _ They’re _ untrained idiots! You don’t need them- I am the only warrior necessary to help you complete your goal!” 

Everyone seemed surprised by Donatello’s outburst -Draxum especially. The alchemist was stunned into silence for a moment, focus torn between the four turtles as Draxum finally realized  _ why  _ Donatello was so upset. 

“You...don’t know who they are,” Draxum said. 

Donatello scoffed, “they’re three turtle yōkai stealing from us and wrecking our lab! There’s nothing to know! They were probably hired by the council to retrieve the-”

“Because I never told you…” Draxum interjected, once again ignoring Donatello’s logic, and only adding fuel to his emotional fire. 

“What do you  _ mean _ ?” Donatello asked, angry and desperate. For once -just once- he wanted Draxum to give a straight, clear-cut answer. 

The alchemist hesitated, weighing his options as every set of eyes in the lab landed upon him. He had kept it a secret long enough, he decided. And there would be no going back to normal when this was over. 

“Thirteen years ago I conducted the experiment that gave you life, Donato,” he explained, “the human specimen I captured escaped-”

“I know _that_!” Donatello said, “you’ve told me that a million times!” 

“The human specimen I captured escaped...with three other mutated turtles.” 

Donatello’s mouth fell open, and his tech bo clattered to the floor. 

For once he was at a loss for words. All the unlinkable pieces that had been plaguing him finally clicked together, and he realized there was nothing he could possibly say. He looked down at the three turtles restrained in front of him and found that they were each wearing mirrored expressions of shock. Donatello’s lip quivered, and he quickly found that he was unable to meet their eyes. 

For an agonizing few seconds, no one said anything. Then Raph broke the silence. 

“So you’re saying...he’s our brother?” 

Donatello wished he could tell what they were thinking, but he felt too sick to focus on anything. Surely this couldn’t be happening. This all had to be some kind of dream, right? Or a test cleverly devised by Draxum himself?

But before he even got a chance to ask, the ground began to rumble and the top of the central pillar flashed with blue electricity, red lights beginning to blare in reaction. 

“Warning!” Donatello’s recorded voice sounded over the intercom, “core destruction imminent!” 

“This place is gonna blow!” Leo shouted, and Raph, Mikey, and April all began to scream.

Donatello crouched to snatch up his tech bo, reaching up with his free hand to quickly switch his goggles into observation mode. His lenses tinted, and red warning signs began to flash across them, confirming what they all already knew. 

Donatello wracked his mine for a plan as debris began to fall from the shaking ceiling. He switched his goggles back to normal, scanning the lab until his eyes landed on the fallen battle bot. 

“This way!” he called to no one in particular, then took off running towards the bot. Once he got close enough, he slid up to its side, dropping to his knees as he hooked the blades at the top of his tech bo underneath it. He pulled, using the length of his tech bo to prop the bot’s side up high enough for him to crawl under, and Draxum joined him seconds later. He opened his mouth to say something, but Donatello scooted away. 

Rubble began to fall from the ceiling, crashing down all around them. Donatello flinched as one chunk landed directly on top of the bot, and curled in on himself, wishing more than anything that he could just disappear into his shell. 

But what about the other turtles? 

Donatello slowly raised his head, daring to peek out from the shelter of the bot to see Raph, Leo, Mikey, and April still screaming in panic, desperate for an escape. 

Before he could even think about giving them one, however, the central pillar suddenly snapped, metal grating against metal as it split in half, releasing the entire swarm of carrier bugs and sending one of the support beams crashing down on top of the cat yōkai’s cell. 

Donatello gasped, but the beam simply broke the vines and disrupted the magical barrier, allowing the cat to teleport away, and reappear on April’s lap. It then teleported all four of them out of their restraints and out of the lab as destruction continued to wage around Donatello and Draxum. His brothers were gone. They had left him behind once again, and he really couldn’t say he blamed them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can probably tell, most of the dialogue from this chapter came from Mystic Mayhem, so I tried my best to keep with the flow and vibe of that episode, despite the changes (and instead of the giant robot being summoned by Draxum, it's now one of Donato's creations! I just felt like it fit him better, and he deserved to go a little crazy with a giant robot. He earned it)


	5. Honor Among Morally Ambiguous Yōkai

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the destruction waged by the invaders the night before, Donato takes some time to sort through his feelings before making a very crucial decision.

Donatello was understandably upset. 

After the destruction of Draxum’s lab, he’d quickly retreated back to his own. Thankfully, the rest of the building hadn’t suffered too badly and was still mostly intact after the surprise ambush. And Donatello’s lab had remained, essentially, untouched. 

So he made his way inside, closing and locking the door behind him before taking a seat at his desk, fighting back a sob as he buried his face in his hands. 

Donatello never did like expressing his emotions. He was fine with a few, such as happiness and anger, but he always hated showing sadness. When he was angry, he could shout and glare and channel it into energy to work on his projects, but when he was sad all he could do was sit in his chair, desperately trying to stop tears he’d been fighting back for way too long. When he was sad, he was weak: Draxum had always told him as much. 

Ugh,  _ Draxum _ . Donatello didn’t want to think about him at the moment. He’d admired the alchemist. He’d wanted to impress him - _ be _ him when he was older- and a part of all that was still true. But now whenever he crossed Donatello’s mind there was a bitterness that came with it. At the moment he could only think about the Draxum who had lied to him, who had kept the other turtles a secret for thirteen years and had Donatello attack them without explanation. He wasn’t sure he’d ever made such a bad first impression in his life. Then again, it wasn’t like he’d met many others outside of Draxum, Huginn and Muninn in the first place. And now he certainly wasn’t going to. 

Donatello let out a long sigh, lowering his hands from his face. A tear rolled down his cheek but was quickly sopped up by the corner of his mask. 

For a moment he pondered his next course of action. Should he go to bed to try and give himself some reprieve from the horrible night he’d had? Should he return to the lab to work on repairing his battle bot and risk running into Draxum? Should he stay in his lab and work himself even further into the night? 

Donatello didn’t have an answer, so he just kept sitting, all but glued to his chair. 

The more he continued to think, however, replaying the events of the night over and over in his head, the more appealing the offer of sleep appeared. He doubted he’d be able to drift off instantly with all the thoughts in his head, but he figured it was at least worth a try.

So he used the strength provided by his limb clamps to push himself off of his chair, leaving his lab and trudging down the hallway towards his room. He was quick about it, certainly not eager to run into anyone, but thankfully that wouldn't be a problem. He made it to his bedroom without interruption -it appeared that Huginn and Muninn were still helping Draxum in the lab- and slid in before closing his door and slouching against it.

Oddly enough, Donatello’s room was one of the smallest in the building. He’d never asked why -because Draxum’s certainly wasn’t huge, either, and Huginn and Muninn slept in a dog bed by the fire- but he assumed it was because all the larger ones had been converted into storage for old experiments or weapons. 

Donatello’s room consisted of nothing more than a dresser, nightstand, desk, an old bunk bed with the bottom bunk completely covered in spare parts and tools, and a cracked TV that hung at a slightly crooked angle on the wall at the foot of the top bunk. Donatello had used it to pirate cartoons and other shows from the surface ever since he could remember, and although Huginn and Muninn had no doubt found it in a trash yard, it had been easy to fix and brought him countless hours of joy and escapism when he needed it. 

Donatello let out a heavy sigh, taking a moment to stretch before going about his nighttime routine. He removed his arm and knee pads first, tossing them onto the bottom bunk before unattaching his clamps. He pried off the two on his upper legs first, feeling a sudden surge of exhaustion and weakness as they deactivated. He set them on his desk, then took off the two clamped around the undersides of his biceps. He dropped him beside the other two, massaging his arms as the extra strength the clamps provided began to wear off. 

His battle shell began feeling heavy, tilting him backward and unbalancing him, so he took that off next. He pried the artificial shell’s clamps off of his plastron and shrugged the shell off completely, getting a feeling of refreshment as the weight lifted off his shoulders. He leaned it against the side of his desk, then moved on. 

He took his wrist tech and gloves off without much trouble, dropping them on the desk beside his clamps before pulling off his goggles and undoing the knot in the back of his mask. He placed both the items on his nightstand, then carefully climbed up the ladder to the top bed, sliding in underneath his blankets and resting his head on his pillow. 

After the initial relief of cozying up in his bed wore off, Donatello found himself incapable of stopping his thoughts from drifting back to his three supposed brothers.

Why had they been there in the first place? Why did they steal from Draxum, and why did they care so much about what he was doing? Shouldn’t they have been equally excited that he was trying to create more of them, too? Donatello couldn’t judge them, he supposed. He was the one that had attacked them with a giant robot, officially ruining their opinion of him forever. 

Oh well. It wasn’t like he could change any of that. He would most likely never see them again, after all. But that wasn’t so bad. Donatello had gotten through his entire life so far without any brothers. He didn’t need them. 

...Then why did the memory of them leaving him behind still hurt so much? 

Whatever the reason, Donatello didn’t want to think about it anymore. So he closed his eyes and buried his face in his pillow, desperately trying to drown out the thoughts in his head until he got tired enough to fall asleep.

\---

Donatello woke to the sound of someone banging on his door. 

He shot up instantly, fear coursing through him at the thought that it might be Draxum trying to wake him up, then the voices of Huginn and Muninn began sounding from the other side of the door, and Donatello flopped back against his pillow. 

“Donato! D! Donatello! Don-Don!”

“Yoo-hoo! Are you awake?!” 

Donatello didn’t give them an answer. He stayed where he was, the events of the previous night quickly returning and dampening his desire to be awake even further. Then his door slammed open, and Huginn and Muninn invited themselves in without any further hesitation. One of them turned the light on, and Donatello groaned, cupping his hands over his eyes to try and minimize the sting of the light.

Great, he’d forgotten to lock his door the night before. And now the two gargoyles were flying up to meet him on the top bunk, nothing more than a couple of fluttering gray blurs without his goggles on. 

“‘Morning, Donato!” Huginn greeted as Donatello slowly lowered his hands from his eyes, “so, how’d you sleep?” 

It was clear he was being extra cheery to compensate for the sour mood that Draxum was no doubt going to be in for the rest of the day. 

Donatello just grumbled in response, reaching over to pat the edge of his bed to try and find the top of the ladder. 

“We just came here to- oh, let me get that for you, champ.” 

Muninn interrupted his explanation by flying down away from Donatello’s bed, scooping up his goggles and mask to hand them over so Donatello wouldn’t have to feel his way down the ladder. 

Donatello gave him a grateful nod, quickly tying his mask on around his head before snapping his goggles on over it. He blinked, giving his eyes time to adjust until the blurry forms of the gargoyles in front of him sharpened into their usual, recognizable states. 

“So, why are you two breaking into my room this early in the morning?” 

“Oh- actually, it’s almost noon,” Huginn said, “yeah, you went to bed pretty late last night, so Draxum decided to let you sleep in today!” 

That was odd. Donatello couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept in, even after staying up until unreasonable hours of the morning. Usually Draxum -a morning person, oddly enough- just slammed on his door until he woke up whenever he needed him. So he’d gotten used to waking up early.

“But he needs you in the lab now,” Muninn added, “he wants you and your robots to help him with the rebuild. Oh, and he says he’s  _ super _ sorry for, y'know, lying and endangering you and all that.” 

Well, that was just a blatant fabrication. Donatello knew the gargoyles well enough to know their tells when they weren’t telling the truth: they would force smiles and constantly look to each other for help -and they were doing both of those things now. 

Besides, it was extraordinarily rare for Draxum to apologize in the first place. The only time he had done it to Donatello was one day when he was eleven and the alchemist had almost knocked him out during training. Huginn had pressured the alchemist into it while Muninn held an ice pack to Donatello’s head, and Draxum had, begrudgingly and through gritted teeth, apologized for hitting him so hard. There also might have been the occasional apology when he was a toddler, but Donatello wouldn’t have remembered those, anyway. The further back he reminisced, the more likely it was that he wouldn’t be able to recall anything. Most of his early childhood was a blur, brought to life only by what Draxum, Huginn and Muninn told him was true. 

“Why does he want  _ me _ ?” Donatello grumbled, “I thought he wouldn’t want to see me for at least two to three business days after what happened last night.” 

“Yeah...we don’t know,” Huginn admitted, “but at least he’s not mad at you! And if you just go help him for a bit I’m sure we can all put this mess right behind us!”

Donatello wasn’t so sure he wanted to, but he couldn’t very well ignore an order from Draxum, so he swallowed his pride and swung his legs over the side of the bed. 

“Fine,” he said, “I’ll go help.”

“Great!” Muninn said, “come tell us how it went when you’re finished- you know where to find us.” 

Their dog bed. Donatello was well aware. 

“Have fun, D-Man! Clean up that lab like a boss!” 

With that last goodbye, Huginn and Muninn flew down from the bed and out the open door, not even bothering to close it behind them. 

\---

After getting out of bed and putting all his gear back on, Donatello left his room. He made sure to swing by the kitchen to grab a quick breakfast -namely, an old protein smoothie that had been abandoned in the back of the fridge for a week- before heading back in the direction of his lab. When he arrived there, he used commands from the tech band on his wrist to gather a small group of reconstruction bots to follow him to Draxum’s lab.

When Donatello stepped through the blast doors, he saw that the alchemist was already hard at work. His battle bot had already been cleared out -most likely split into several pieces and dumped in one of the storage rooms- but other than that, the lab hardly looked any different than it had the night before.

Nevertheless, Draxum was wasting no time with his cleanup. He’d already summoned several purple vines, each working individually to lift chunks of rock and metal, pushing or tossing them aside into piles at the edge of the lab. It was like watching an octopus perform a hypnotizing and very unnerving dance. 

Doing his best to ignore Draxum, Donatello simply got to work instructing his bots to begin their clean up process. A few sped off across the ground to begin prying loose bigger chunks of debris, while the rest flew off and headed straight for the central pillar, assessing the damage and calculating what repairs needed to be made. 

Then Draxum turned, and Donatello met his eyes. They stared for an uncomfortably long moment, then the alchemist walked off to a different part of the lab without a word. Ignoring the pang in his heart and the incessant chatter of his thoughts, Donatello started forward and got to work. 

\---

Over the course of their cleanup, Donatello only tried to make it  _ look _ like he was helping. He wanted the lab to be rebuilt, of course, but he couldn't deny he was frustrated. Not only had Draxum not said a word to him the entire day, but Donatello was so  _ tired _ of cleaning. He was sure he’d spent more time in this lab than he had his own bedroom: he’d spent most of his life simply cleaning, constructing, rebuilding, all for Draxum’s project. And when the lab was finally finished he was sure he’d be done with it. But now it was destroyed again, and there was no telling how long it would take them to get it back to its original glory this time. So Donatello spent most of the morning shifting pieces of rock around with the blades of his tech bo, feigning exhaustion whenever Draxum happened to look his way. But, of course, the silence between them couldn’t last forever.

“I can tell you have questions for me.” 

Donatello jumped at the sound of Draxum’s voice behind him and whipped around to see him standing only a few feet away. The turtle shrank back slightly, leaning his weight on his tech bo, the end of which was dug into the dirt beneath them. 

“Well?” Draxum pressed, “aren’t you going to ask them?” 

Donatello took a moment to think: there was no telling how many of his questions Draxum would feel up to answering, so he was going to have to prioritize. 

“Why...why did you lie to me?” 

It was the question that had been bothering him the most, and Draxum seemed to have anticipated it as the first one he’d ask. 

“Believe it or not, I do not know everything,” Draxum said, “when my human specimen escaped with the other three turtles, I never expected they would still be together years later. And I certainly didn’t anticipate them coming back and  _ destroying _ my lab. I thought I’d never see them again. They were irrelevant.” 

Donatello let out a sigh. That made sense, he supposed. It likely would have only upset him to learn about his three lost brothers. Then again, learning about them now was upsetting him just as much. 

“The human you captured for the first experiment...who were they?” 

Donatello saw Draxum bristle, and he worried he’d shut the question down without an answer. 

“He was a Battle Nexus Champion I rescued from Big Mama,” Draxum explained, “his name was Lou Jitsu, and I want to make it perfectly clear that you will never mention him again. I will not stand to have you speak his name when you have no concept of everything he’s done to hurt us.”

Donatello thought about arguing, but ultimately just nodded in acceptance. 

“Is there anything else, or can you stop sulking and make yourself useful now?” Draxum asked. 

Donatello’s grip on his tech bo tightened, and he hunched over even further as he asked one of the biggest questions still clouding his brain. 

“Why did he leave me behind?” 

The fact that the human specimen had left him in his flight to escape had never bothered him before, but now that he knew he had taken three other turtles with him, Donatello couldn’t help but wonder if, somehow, he had done something wrong. 

“I have no idea,” Draxum claimed, keeping the same unfazed poker face he had throughout the whole conversation, “he simply didn’t want you. I can’t tell you why -humans are selfish and disturbed creatures- but when he left you behind in the rubble, I saved you.  _ I _ never left you.” 

For some reason, that didn’t make Donatello feel any better. 

“Now get back to work,” Draxum said, “my lab isn’t going to rebuild itself.”

\---

After finishing his part of the cleanup for the day, Donatello quickly retreated back to the undamaged portion of the building, making a beeline for the library, eager to sit down and sort through his feelings by the fire until it was time for dinner. Usually, he would be doing something like that in his room, but he knew Huginn and Muninn would be waiting up to hear what had happened with Draxum, and he didn’t want to accidentally keep them up all night by forgetting to check in. So, to the library it was. 

Donatello quickly made his way down the hall, speed walking past the door to his lab, then his bedroom, until the end of the corridor came into view and he took a hard right, walking past a few more doorways until the entrance of the library came into view. Donatello turned into the room, and as soon as a wave of heat from the fire hit him, he felt a weight lift off his shoulders. 

The kindle in the fireplace had been stoked, and the flames were snapping and bristling around the wood, creating surges of heat that warmed the entire room up to the doorway. Huginn and Muninn were, predictably, both curled up in their dog bed a few feet away from the open flames, chatting back and forth as they took in the heat of the fireplace. 

Donatello let out a deep sigh as he began making his way further into the room. His eyes scanned a hundred rows of books lining the walls as he made his way to Draxum’s old armchair, the aura of the room practically draining stress from him. 

Other than his lab, the library was Donatello’s favorite place in the whole building. It was where he went to get away from his stress and anxieties: it was his refuge. And the same was true for Huginn and Muninn as well. There was a reason they had their dog bed set up there, and it was never uncommon to find the three of them spending time together there, away from their individual responsibilities and obligations. 

Even better, it was one of the few rooms in the building that Draxum rarely visited. He used to spend a great deal of time in the library when Donatello was little, he vaguely remembered: the alchemist would read him numerous books from his shelves whenever he had nothing better to do, but the bonding activity was quickly put to an end after Donatello learned to read himself. 

Donatello let out a loud sigh, startling Huginn and Muninn slightly as he sunk into the unoccupied armchair beside the fire. The gargoyles quickly relaxed when they realized it was him, and Donatello’s posture unraveled as he leaned further back, stretching his legs out to soak in the fire’s heat. 

“‘Sup, Donato,” Huginn greeted.

“How’d things go with the boss?” Muninn asked. 

Donatello groaned in response, running his hands down his face -being careful not to smudge his goggles. 

“That good, huh?” Huginn said, rolling onto his back as Muninn began to stretch out and take up most of the space beside him, “did he say anything about the other turts?” 

Donatello scoffed, “not really. Why?” 

“Being completely honest: I forgot they were a thing until yesterday,” Huginn admitted. 

“We  _ totally _ forgot they were a thing,” Muninn said, “I think the stress of raising you got to us and wrecked our memories. But, seriously, Draxum never talked about them. It’s no wonder we forgot they existed. He probably thought they were as good as gone.” 

“Yes...I suppose that makes sense,” Donatello said, “I just wish- no. Nevermind.” 

Donatello quickly backtracked upon realizing he was dangerously close to opening up to the gargoyles. As close as they were, he still wasn’t a fan of revealing his feelings. 

“Dude, no, come on,” Muninn said, pushing himself up into a sitting position, “you can totally tell us! This is a safe space, free of ridicule.”

“Unless you say something super dumb that deserves to be ridiculed,” Huginn added. 

“It’s  _ nothing _ ,” Donatello insisted. 

“No!” Muninn said, “enough brooding- it’s annoying! Spit it out!” 

Donatello hesitated for a moment more, but eventually realized that the gargoyles weren’t going to drop it. 

“I just...wish I could see them again,” Donatello admitted quietly. 

“Oh, like for a rematch?” Huginn said. 

“No,” he sighed, “to explain that we’re on the same side and there’s no need to wage destruction when we could be working together.”

“Aw, like a real family!” Muninn said, straying far too close to the fine line between indulging Donatello and making fun of him.

“I never said that!” he quickly denied, “it would simply be far more effective to have all four of us working together than apart. But now they’ve wrecked Draxum’s lab, stolen his weapons, and retreated to I don’t even know where, so it’s not like we’ll get to have that conversation anytime soon.”

“Well, why not?” Muninn asked, “you have a bunch of dinky little trackers, right?” 

“Yes,” Donatello said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “but to actually  _ track _ them I would need to recalibrate an entire system...which would take less than an hour- but then I would need to tailor it to search exclusively for their DNA...which given its uniqueness and trace amounts of ooze would lead me straight to them! Muninn, you’re a genius!” 

Donatello was off his seat in seconds, energy and inspiration swiftly returning as he ran calculations and probabilities in his head, muttering equations out loud as Huginn and Muninn shifted to watch him pace the floor. 

Then Donatello remembered the single most crucial detail of the entire hypothetical mission and instantly deflated. 

“Draxum would never allow it,” he said, “he wouldn’t let me up on the surface to get  _ groceries _ , let alone track down the other turtles.”

“So just...don’t ask,” Muninn said. 

“Ugh, Muninn, your  _ mind _ ,” Huginn said, “you are  _ so _ smart.”

“Very amusing,” Donatello scoffed, “but I can’t just  _ sneak out _ . There’s no telling how Draxum would react.” 

“Uh, he doesn’t even have to  _ know _ ,” Huginn said, “you can sneak out, sneak in -zip, zap, zop- be back before he even knows you’re gone. I mean, regular teenagers do it all the time. How hard could it be?” 

Donatello thought for a moment, “I suppose I could also modify the tracker to pick up signals from opening portals...but why would you two help me with something like this? Who says you won’t just go and tell Draxum as soon as I leave?”

“Dude, if you get in trouble,  _ we _ get in trouble,” Muninn reminded him, “also: we don’t care. Couldn’t care less. The amount of care we have? Zero-”

“I think he’s got it,” Huginn said. 

“-Point is: you being gone for a few hours isn’t gonna hurt Draxum or his construction,” Muninn explained, “and you  _ definitely _ look like you could use a little teenage rebellion. If you get caught, just don’t tell him it was our idea, kay?” 

“...And you’ll cover for me?” 

“Totally,” Huginn said. 

Donatello wasn’t sure about disobeying Draxum so blatantly, but what other choice did he have? Return to his room and force himself to find contentment in never seeing the other turtles again? This may be the only chance he was ever going to get. 

“...Alright,” Donatello said, “but Draxum  _ cannot _ know.” 

“Hey, we’d pinkie-swear if we had pinkies,” Huginn said, “now get going, dude. You’ve got a real small window to work with.”

“Right.”

Donatello turned to hurry out the door of the library, but came to a slow stop before he could reach the hallway.

“Guys?” 

Huginn and Muninn both turned to meet his eyes. 

“Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for all the support this story has gotten so far! You really have no idea how much I appreciate all the kudos and comments  
> Anyway, I'm actually really proud of this chapter. I like how it turned out and I hope you guys do as well  
> This chapter also just made me love Huginn and Muninn even more (they're actually my favorite villains in the show). And I like to think that they get along with Donato pretty well and honestly have his best interests at heart -though they don't always show it, and at the same time would likely throw him under the bus to avoid getting into trouble themselves. So it's safe to say they have a very sibling-like relationship


	6. Surface Tension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donato finally gets the nerve to participate in some good old fashion teenage rebellion and sneaks up to the surface. Once there, his mission goes better than expected.

It was settled. Donatello was going to sneak up to the surface. 

He waited until it got late enough that Draxum retreated to his room to sleep, then took an old hooded cloak from the back of his closet before making a beeline towards the front doors. He triple-checked his tech as he went, powering on his new and improved tracker, making sure his plan would go as smoothly as possible without any surprises. 

Once Donatello reached the doors, his tracker -a small, repurposed remote with a holographic screen at the top- finished booting up and he was able to see all the fluctuating portals in the nearby vicinity of the Hidden City. The closest and most stable one was only a short walk away, so he activated his goggle’s night vision feature, and slowly pushed open the front doors of the building. 

They creaked as they opened, making Donatello flinch, slipping through as quickly as possible before closing them behind him. He stared up at the windows on the upper floors of the building, waiting for lights to flash on and shouting to start if Draxum had heard him, but thankfully it seemed the alchemist was fast asleep. So Donatello continued forward.

It was easy enough to make his way down the path along the outskirts of the Hidden City: he had taken it several times before when asked to pick up groceries or ingredients for Draxum. But this time he wouldn’t be following it all the way. As the path began to veer off towards the more populated areas of the city, Donatello strayed to the left, the smoothed path quickly turning into rough terrain as he followed the map on his tracker’s screen up towards a particularly mountainous section of the Hidden City. 

Donatello found himself faltering as the earth began to curve upwards, his tracker only continuing to lead him in the same direction. He wanted to avoid using his tech, because if even one yōkai saw him they would know instantly who he was and, likely, report him back to Draxum. But even with the strength provided by his limb clamps, he didn’t want to attempt climbing the rocks jutting from the ground. So he pulled the back of his cloak up around his shoulders and activated the rotors on his battle shell.

The ascension was slow going at first because he certainly didn’t want to risk going too fast and accidentally catching his cloak in the rotors, but eventually, his tracker began beeping as he got higher and higher, then a small platform came into view and he was able to touch down on it. Pulling the material of his hood further over his head, he looked around to find that there was a small, glowing green portal casting a dull beam of light from a few rocks up, bent at an angle that would require him to enter head-first to avoid an awkward exit. So he reactivated his routers, bracing himself as they propelled him upwards, straight through the material of the portal. 

Donatello screwed his eyes shut as the light from the portal flashed around him, then there was the smell of trash burning his nose, and his shoulder rammed into something hard. 

He opened his eyes to find himself flying out of a dumpster, and quickly deactivated the rotors on his battle shell, landing clumsily on his hands and knees as he pulled his cloak tighter around himself to avoid being seen. 

Fortunately, it appeared that the portal had shot him out in an alleyway on the surface, so he was shrouded in nearly complete darkness, his goggles still allowing him to see clearly, giving him a moment to catch his breath as he watched people pass the alley on the sidewalk in front of him. 

Slowly, Donatello pushed himself to his feet. He rubbed his shoulder as he made his way back to the dumpster, rolling it to try and dull the pain from the exit. He stuck his head curiously over the rim of the garbage, only to recoil at the smell. Of course he had to pick the one portal that sent him through a dumpster. 

But speaking of picking portals: where was his tracker?

Donatello quickly scanned the length of the alley, panicking for a moment until he found the remote sitting on the ground right in front of him. He must have dropped it in the fall, he realized, and reached down to pick it up. Trying to give himself as much time to prepare for the hardest part of his mission as possible, he slowly recalibrated the tracker until the screen shifted from a blue hue to a green one, signaling that it was now scanning the city for very specific signatures that would determine the fate of his mission.

One dot appeared in the alleyway Donatello stood in, and moments later there were three more, clustered together only a few blocks away. 

Donatello’s heart raced: this was it. He pulled the tracker back under the cover of his cloak and hesitantly began making his way out onto the sidewalk. It was incredibly nerve-wracking at first to step out underneath the street lamps and fall in line walking with the humans around him, keeping his head down and trying to stay as far away from all of them as possible. But the longer Donatello walked, the calmer he began to feel. He realized that there was a considerably smaller amount of humans around than he had expected, so he was able to effectively keep his distance and avoid arousing any suspicion as he made his way down the street. 

Although Donatello had seen images and videos of the surface’s huge, illuminated buildings and speeding motor vehicles in nearly every piece of media he’d ever pirated, their existence around him was still intimidating. The blinding lights and constant movement was something so new and bizarre. Donatello tilted his head up to the sky and was forced to do a double-take when he realized stars and constellations were shining down on him. The air was cold, as well. It made Donatello wish he’d invented a temperature regulator before going on with his mission, but he couldn’t turn back now. And, if he was being honest, he wasn’t sure he wanted to for a while. The constant threat of being discovered was enough to keep him cemented in fear, the temperature was low enough to make him shiver and pull his cloak in for every ounce of warmth he could find, and the open sky gave him a bigger feeling of minimality than he’d ever experienced, but there was something more as well. The Hidden City had its charm, of course, but Donatello had never felt air this crisp and seen light this pure. Maybe when he convinced the other turtles they were on the same side they would be able to show him the surface. He had so many questions, but his mission was far from over. So those would have to wait. 

As Donatello continued down the sidewalk, he got into a rhythm of consistently pulling out his tracker to make sure he was on the right course, then immediately covering it once again. The last thing he wanted to do was raise any suspicion of himself, but from where he stood it didn’t even look like the passersby registered his existence. He was simply an anonymous hooded figure blending into the shadows around him, and he preferred to keep it that way. 

Then the tracker began to beep, and Donatello pulled it out just in time to bring himself to a screeching halt in front of an alleyway on his right. He stepped into the alley, then paused, spinning around to take in everything around him, but eventually stopped with a huff of frustration. 

According to his tracker, he was right on top of the other three dots. But even with the assistance from his night vision feature, he saw nothing but walls and a circular hatch beneath his feet. 

...Wait a minute.

Oh, they were  _ good _ .

Donatello wasted no time pocketing his tracker in his battle shell and bending down to uncover the hatch, pulling it off to the right to reveal a large drop-down into what Donatello could only describe as a secret lair. Thankfully, said drop was equipped with four sets of ladder handles on each side, so Donatello took full advantage of them, lowering himself down onto the first few rungs before pulling the hatch closed above him. 

It took Donatello about five minutes to make his way to the bottom of the drop, touching down on the ground below before turning to make his way down the only tunnel available. As he made his way forward, he quickly realized that there was no longer a need for his night vision feature, as the tunnel was lined with two rows of string lights, illuminated as far as the eye could see. So Donatello switched his goggles back to normal and continued walking until he came upon a crossroad. 

The tunnel continued in three directions: left, right, and straight. He couldn’t see the end of the tunnels ahead and to his right, but the one on his left emptied into a warm and brightly lit room. From what he could see, the room was a lounging area, complete with a chair and several bean bags. Donatello made his decision without much thought, drawn to the warmth and homely appeal of the lounge area. He stepped inside and slowly pulled the hood of his cloak down around his neck, taking a moment to turn and admire the strings of warmly colored lights lining the tops of the walls. 

When he turned back to face the furniture, however, he quickly realized he wasn’t alone. 

Standing in front of him was Leo, wearing not the blue sashes and mask Donatello had expected, but a pair of blue-striped pajamas with a nightcap, a mug containing some sort of steaming beverage in his hands and a look of extreme confusion plastered on his face. 

Donatello opened his mouth to speak, but Leo instead raised his cup to his lips, taking a long sip and maintaining unblinking eye contact with Donatello before lowering the cup once more and turning to the nearest doorway. 

“Hey, Raph!” 

He called his brother’s name so casually, but the red-clad turtle was making his way into the lounge within seconds, closely followed by Mikey, the fourth and final brother. 

“What’s up L-”

Raph’s greeting died in his throat as his eyes landed on Donatello, but the intruding turtle was having a hard time finding any of them intimidating. 

Apparently, the three had been getting ready to sleep, because Raph was wearing a red onesie with a heart on the chest, and Mikey was wearing a pair of orange pajamas with a sailboat pattern on the front. None of them were wearing their masks, and none of them had their weapons. It was clear that Donatello had caught them completely off-guard. 

“Alright, you!” Raph growled, stepping in front of Mikey and Leo, protectively stretching his arms to shield them, “I’m only gonna tell you once: get out of our house.”

Donatello had expected the backlash, but that didn’t mean it didn’t still sting.

“Raph!” Mikey intervened, ducking underneath his brother’s arm with hands on his hips, “that’s no way to treat our brother!” 

“This jerk ain’t our brother, Mikey,” Raph said, crossing his arms at the smaller turtle, “he’s a villain. He’s working with Baron what’s-his-name.” 

A villain? That seemed a bit harsh.

“Yeah, I’m with Raph on this one,” Leo said, setting his cup down on a nearby table, “I mean, he did technically break into our house.” 

“Well, it’s not exactly locked,” Donatello mumbled, earning a glare from Raph. 

“Alright, you nerdy mad scientist,” Raph said, “you’ve got two seconds to explain what you’re doing here before I send you running back home to Mr. Sheepman.” 

“Raph!” Mikey groaned. 

“I didn’t come here to-” 

“Oop, two seconds are up,” Leo interjected, only deriving amusement from Donatello’s irritation, “sorry, bro.”

“I didn’t come here to fight with you!” Donatello snapped, finally re-gaining everyone’s attention, “I wanted to talk. I wanted to...sort things out.”

It sounded a bit foolish now that he said it out loud, but there was certainly no backing out now.

“Uh...what?” Raph said. 

“Aw, of  _ course _ , we can talk, brother!” Mikey said. 

“Now, hold on a sec-”

“What’s your name?” Mikey asked, stepping up to stand in front of Donatello, despite Raph’s protests, “we need to know what to call you, after all.” 

“Uh...Donatello,” he answered.

“Oh, ho, ho!” Leo said, “like the Italian Renaissance dude? Okay, I’m starting to see the family resemblance.”

“See!” Mikey said, “he really is our brother,  _ Raph _ !”

“Now, I don’t think-” 

“Anyway, that’s super long,” Leo interjected, “we’re just gonna call you Donnie.”

“My shorter name is Donato-”

“Donnie it is,” Leo interjected, “alright, look, big bro: as long as he doesn’t try to kill us again, I’m open to talking.” 

He and Mikey both hit Raph with identical looks of expectancy, and the -apparently- older brother caved. 

“ _ Fine _ ,” he said, “but I’m keeping an eye on him, and we don’t tell Pops about this until we know what’s going on.” 

“Okay!”

“Cool by me.” 

Wait- Pops? So the turtles weren’t just living alone in the lair? Maybe their father was the human experiment that saved them from the collapsing lab all those years ago? If so, Donatello opted for avoiding him. If he was really as cruel and malicious as Draxum claimed, he wanted to get this talk over with and leave the lair as soon as possible. 

But the other turtles didn’t seem to be in any kind of rush. Mikey took Donatello’s hand to lead him out of the lounge and down another hall, and Leo and Raph followed closely behind. Mikey pulled him past a few doors lining the corridor before opening one and leading him inside. 

Based on the interior, it didn’t take Donatello long to realize that the room belonged to Mikey. 

The string lights lining the walls were all glowing with the same orange hue that seemed to be the turtle’s signature, and paintings and graffiti were covering nearly every flat surface, very similar to the colorful stickers and paint splatters on Mikey’s shell. 

The smallest brother released Donatello’s hand to cross the room and sit on the purple hammock stretched in front of the far wall. He patted the spot beside him expectantly, but Donatello remained cemented in the center of the room. 

Seeing the deflation on his brother’s face, Leo quickly crossed to sit beside him, draping an arm over Mikey’s shoulders as Raph leaned against the wall to Donatello’s left. 

“You came here to talk,” Raph said, “start talking.”

Mikey opened his mouth to say something -probably to chastise Raph on his rudeness- but ultimately thought better of it and turned to face Donatello, intent to listen to what he came to say. 

“Uh…” Donatello cleared his throat, trying to take up as much time as possible before his speech, even though he’d been rehearsing it in his head the entire way over. 

“I believe that the four of us are not on separate sides,” he began, “now, I do not know why you attacked us, stole from us, and destroyed our lab, but I believe it may have been a misunderstanding. There is no need for any further disagreement. It would be in all our best interests to lay our arms down and join forces. With our alliance, any future conflict can be avoided.” 

Donatello gave a nod to signify the end of his rant, folding his hands behind his back as he waited patiently for the others to reply. Raph and Mikey seemed to be pondering his words with focus and intent, but it was, surprisingly, Leo who spoke first. 

“Dude, who even talks like that?” 

“Excuse me?” 

The blue-clad turtle snorted in response, “‘there is no need for any further disagreement’ -what? Dude. No one talks like that. Just say ‘we won’t have to fight anymore’ or something.”

Donatello found himself bristling at Leo’s insistence in correcting him. Why should he change the way he speaks? Dumb himself down so he won’t be made fun of? No. That isn’t going to happen. 

“I’m not buying it,” Raph said, “I bet Draxum sent you down here just to get inside our heads. Well, it ain’t gonna happen.” 

Donatello groaned, feeling his patience beginning to unravel, “Draxum doesn’t even know I’m here. I came of my own volition to try and reason with you, but apparently, you’re too thick-headed to even let me do that.” 

He turned around to storm off, but was stopped by a plea from Mikey. 

“Wait, Donnie!” he called, “hold on. Let’s talk this out.” 

So Donatello stayed. 

“Guys?” Mikey said, nudging his brothers expectantly. 

“Okay, I guess...why would you even want to team up with us in the first place?” Leo asked, “you’re working with Draxum. He’s literally evil.” 

“He is not  _ evil _ ,” Donatello protested, “he might be...a little hard to get along with, but-”

Raph let out a sudden, loud laugh, “‘a little hard to get along with’? He’s a straight-up villain!” 

“No-”

“He  _ did _ lock up that human for his experiment,” Mikey said. 

“ _ And _ turned him into a crab mutant against his will,” Leo added. 

“ _ And _ stole our best friend’s new pet cat for no reason,” Raph concluded. 

“Alright, see, this is just a huge misunderstanding,” Donatello said, “that ‘cat’ stole Draxum’s only vial of ooze from him in the first place, and he simply needed it back to complete his experiment, which he’s been working on for a very long time -and that you three kind of ruined- only to give life to more mutant warriors to help protect the Hidden City.” 

There was a lull in the conversation, and Donatello thought for a moment he’d finally gotten through to them. 

“Dude, he literally  _ kidnapped a human and turned him into a mutant against his will _ ,” Leo said, “don’t tell me that didn’t freak you out. It was insane!” 

Donatello opened his mouth to argue, but found he had no defense prepared. Leo was right: the mutation had scared him. But it had never occurred to him before that they had completely ruined a person’s life. 

“Yeah, see?” Leo said, “he’s one evil dude, Donnie. You  _ sure _ we’re all on the same team?” 

No...that was impossible. Draxum wasn’t evil. Draxum was his caretaker. He had raised Donatello since he was a baby, saved him from the destruction of his lab, and cared for him ever since. Sure, he could be harsh sometimes, and he let his pride get in the way of everything, but he wasn’t evil. 

...Right? 

“Uh, you good there, D?” Raph asked, “you look a little pale.” 

“I’m perfectly fine,” Donatello snapped, though he wasn’t sure it was the truth, “look, I just...I didn’t want to be on bad terms with any of you. If you really are my brothers, I’d prefer it if we didn’t hate each other. That’s all I came to say.” 

He turned and opened the door to the room, then he heard footsteps behind him and a hand around his wrist stopped him from leaving. 

He barely managed to register that it was Mikey gently tugging him back before he suddenly dove forward and pulled him into a hug, wrapping his arms around his middle as Donatello was rendered completely frozen. 

Suddenly, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been hugged. He was sure Draxum had only given him a few as a child, and the most he ever got from Huginn and Muninn were one-armed side hugs. He’d never been sought out and pulled into an affectionate display, but now Mikey was hugging him like he was the only thing that mattered, and Donatello had no idea what to do. 

He ruined it by not doing anything, and Mikey pulled away too soon, forcing Donatello to resist the urge to pull him back in. He missed the warmth his brother gave instantly, but he did his best not to let it show. 

“Hey, it’s pretty late,” Leo said, “maybe...I don’t know- you should stay here tonight.”

“What?” Raph asked, but Donatello noticed that he wasn’t as offended by the idea as he might have been a few minutes ago. His posture had relaxed too, and he was no longer glaring Donatello down from across the room. It appeared that Mikey’s hug had been a turning point: both Raph and Leo seemed to trust his judgment, and somehow Donatello had gotten Mikey to trust him. 

“That’s a great idea!” Mikey said, “oh! You can stay in my room! I’ll stay in Leo’s.” 

“Alright,” Leo said, “but you better not kick me off the bed again.” 

“Uh, woah, woah, woah, hold on, guys,” Raph said, and for once Donatello felt grateful that he was bringing the conversation to a halt. He couldn’t just spend the night in the lair, even if he wanted to. 

“We ain’t done with this conversation,” Raph continued, “and I’ve got a few questions of my own that I want answers to.”

“ _ Ugh _ , fine,” Leo said, “go ahead.” 

Raph turned to Donatello, “okay...how come we hadn’t heard of you until the other day? How did you even end up with  _ Draxum _ and not us?” 

“I just did,” Donatello said, “Draxum brought in a human specimen thirteen years ago that he used to create us. But he escaped and destroyed Draxum’s lab. He took the three of you, but not me. I don’t know why.”

“Wait a minute, who is this mysterious human specimen we’re only now just hearing about?” Leo asked. 

Mikey gasped, “is he our dad? Like, our real, biological dad?”

“I suppose so,” Donatello said, “but...Draxum doesn’t want me talking about him.” 

“Uh, well, Draxum isn’t here,” Leo said, “go nuts, D.” 

Donatello hesitated for a moment, then ultimately realized Leo was right. 

“Alright,” he said, “well, Draxum did tell me that the human specimen was someone called ‘Lou Jitsu’, but I have no idea-”

“Lou Jitsu?!” 

Suddenly Raph, Leo, and Mikey were all staring at Donatello with dumbfounded looks, eyes wide, and jaws hanging open. 

“I take it you know who that is,” Donatello said. 

“No way!” Raph said, “you’re saying...we have  _ Lou Jitsu _ DNA?!” 

“Cowa-boy am I speechless,” Leo gasped. 

“Omigosh!” Mikey squealed, “Lou Jitsu’s our dad!” 

The mood of the room was suddenly turned on its head as the three turtles began to cheer, embracing each other and whooping in triumph, leaving Donatello in an even bigger state of confusion and exclusion. 

“I’m sorry...who is Lou Jitsu?” 

The brother’s celebration came to a screeching halt, and Donatello couldn’t help but feel like he’d said the wrong thing as they all turned to stare at him. 

“Who’s Lou Jitsu?!”

“You don’t even know who Lou Jitsu is?!” 

“Guys! We’ve gotta help him! Leo, grab my phone! Movie night’s back on!” 

Before Donatello even had time to protest, he was being dragged over to Mikey’s hammock and shoved onto the side opposite to Leo. Donatello clutched the material with white knuckles to avoid tipping over, then Mikey jumped on between the two of them, making the hammock swing and causing Donatello’s battle shell to slam against the wall behind him. But the others paid his struggle no mind as they continued to set up Mikey’s electronic device to explain who exactly Lou Jitsu was. 

As Raph settled down on the floor below, Mikey and Leo scooted closer together, the latter holding a phone out in front of them at an angle they could all see. Donatello avoided the huddle as he waited for the video to boot up, but, as the night went on, found himself caring less and less about avoiding contact with his brothers as his attention shifted completely to the content on Mikey’s phone.

They made him watch two Lou Jitsu movies that night, and Donatello quickly found himself forgetting every warning Draxum had given him about the Battle Nexus Champion, watching him fight on the small screen with wide eyes and admiration. 

_ This _ was the human his DNA had come from?  _ This _ was his biological father? Why had Draxum never told him about any of this? Surely he was entitled to at least knowing who his family was. 

Still, even while Donatello admired Lou Jitsu’s fighting techniques, there was a thin layer of bitterness that hung around him. This was Lou Jitsu, yes. This was the incredible action star who had rescued his brothers. But it was also the escaped human experiment who had left him behind. And as much as he tried to drown out those thoughts and focus on the positive, they were still there. 

At the end of the second movie, Donatello was practically bursting with questions, but when he looked around, he discovered that the three other turtles were already fast asleep. Leo and Mikey were curled up together at the opposite end of the hammock, and Raph was out and out snoring beside them, leaned against the wall a few feet away.

As if simply looking at them were enough to make him tire, Donatello leaned back against the vacant side of the hammock, pillowing his hands beneath his head as he slowly closed his eyes and allowed himself to relax. 

Even with all the bitter thoughts in his head, Donatello found himself quickly drifting off. His breathing fell into rhythm with his brothers’, the sounds of shifting and quiet snoring all around him slowly growing comforting, and surprisingly familiar. He supposed there was a time -even if it was years and years ago- that they had all slept together like this. Before the mutation, before the abandonment and betrayal and all the other complications. They had been brothers. Together and happy with it. 

Donatello found himself wishing, as he dozed off beside his long lost family, that they could all just go back to that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The boys are all finally putting their differences aside and having a nice family movie night! Gotta love that for them  
> Anyway I'd recommend really holding onto the vibes from this chapter, because things are about to get way worse


	7. Homemade Heartache

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After spending some quality time with his long lost brothers, Donato confronts and resolves a portion of his trauma. He then realizes he made a huge, irreversible mistake.

The following morning, Donatello was surprised to wake up on his own, and not to anyone pounding on his door. 

Deciding he still had at least a few minutes to sleep in, he curled tighter around himself, pulling his blanket up to his cheek and nuzzling into his pillow. The bed beneath him felt far lighter and less secure than usual, but Donatello waved it off as part of his imagination and continued to doze. 

Then the events of the previous night came back to him, and his eyes shot open.

He was pushing himself up in seconds, throwing his blanket off, and taking a wild look around the room. Thankfully, it appeared that Raph, Leo, and Mikey had all left -whether the previous night or earlier in the morning- so no one was there to watch his sudden freakout.

Donatello was still sitting in the hammock, he realized, but someone had gone to the trouble of giving him a blanket and pillow to sleep with before they left. Donatello couldn’t imagine why, but he also couldn’t deny he was grateful for the added heat. 

Taking another look around, he realized he’d also fallen asleep with his cloak and tech on. How had he done that again? Oh, right: he’d dozed off while watching Lou Jitsu, despite his previous efforts to leave the turtles’ secret lair as soon as possible. 

Well, he was here now, and it wasn’t as if he could change that fact and ignore that he had unintentionally slept over. At the very least, his mission to convince the others they didn’t need to fight appeared to have been a success. 

Then the door opened, and Donatello turned to see Leo making his way in carrying a plate of food with him. He had changed out of pajamas and into his regular accessories at that point, but he still looked just as tired as he had the night before.

“‘Morning, D,” he greeted. 

“Uh...good morning.”

Leo took a seat on his left, and Donatello scooted away as the hammock sank underneath his weight. He threw the blanket off his lap and unfolded his legs to swing them over the edge. When he looked back, Leo was holding the plate of food out to him. 

Donatello didn’t understand. The meal looked good: a small stack of fluffy, cooked dough with berries, and some sort of bronze syrup drizzled over the top. Was that it? Was this Leo’s way of bragging? 

“Uh, you gonna take it or just stare at it all morning?” Leo asked suddenly, “my arm’s getting tired, dude.” 

Wait...Leo was  _ giving _ him the meal? That didn’t track at all. 

Surely their talk hadn’t gone well enough that they were able to be so buddy-buddy, sharing food and conversation in such a comfortable and casual manner. Besides, this food looked better than anything he had ever attempted to cook, buy, or scavenge. Why would Leo just hand over such a desirable -and, frankly, expensive- looking meal? For all Donatello knew, this was the exact kind of food they served to the rich higher-ups that lounged in Big Mama’s hotel. 

Then again...the pastries smelled delicious, and there was still steam rising from the top of the pile. And Donatello was hungry, he realized as his gut began to growl, so he took the plate from Leo and set it on his lap. The blue-clad turtle handed over a fork and knife, and Donatello dug in. 

“So, how long you planning on staying?” Leo asked. 

His question went unanswered as Donatello sawed off a piece of pastry and popped it in his mouth. His eyes widened, and he immediately realized he’d never tasted food this good. The contrast between the cool syrup and hot pastry was heavenly, and Leo had to snap his fingers in front of Donatello’s face to snap him out of his food daze. 

“Hey- dude, you good?” 

“What is this pastry?” Donatello asked, “it’s astonishing. Where did you get it?”

Leo gave him a look of concern, “dude, it’s just grocery store pancake mix Mikey fried up ten minutes ago. Sleepover etiquette: you feed your guests.” 

Donatello was hard-pressed to believe him. Then again, Leo was so casual about it that it certainly did seem like this was the kind of food they ate on a day-to-day basis. 

“Why?” Leo asked, “what do you usually eat?” 

Donatello shrugged, “protein shakes, energy bars, vegetables, grubs, bugs-”

“ _ Grubs _ ?!” 

“Standard turtle food,” Donatello said, “never anything like  _ this _ .” 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Leo said, “we’re not just gonna gloss over the grubs part. You...you straight-up just eat bugs?” 

“Yes…?” 

Why did Donatello feel like he was being interrogated? 

“Like... _ bugs _ ,” Leo repeated, “squirmy, slimy, gross, running around the house like they own the place  _ bugs _ ?” 

“ _ Yes _ ,” Donatello said, not understanding Leo’s hang-up, “it’s what turtles eat in the wild.” 

“Well,  _ we _ aren’t turtles in the wild. We’re mutants. We eat stuff like pizza, pancakes, chips, one time Mikey tried to swallow a whole jawbreaker and Raph had to give him the Heimlich. You know, regular teenage stuff.” 

“Well, as fascinating as that is remarkably concerning, I’ve never eaten any of those things. And why you would even  _ try _ to consume something titled a ‘jawbreaker’ is beyond me.” 

Donatello waited for Leo’s next equally confusing and snappy rebuttal, but it appeared that he had finally been silenced, his mouth hanging open as he stared at Donatello like  _ he _ was the insane one. But Donatello paid him no more mind, returning to his pancakes until the door across from them opened once more. 

“Hey, you guys ready?” Raph asked, poking his head into the room as Mikey bouncing eagerly behind him. They had both also changed back into their normal attire. 

Donatello froze with his fork stuck in a slice of strawberry. Ready for what? Were they finally going to kick him out?

“Uh, yeah, no, I got a little sidetracked,” Leo said, shooting one last look of concern in Donatello’s direction. 

“Did you even  _ tell him _ ?” Raph asked. 

“Tell me what?” Donatello leaned over to set his plate on the nearby desk, pushing himself to his feet in preparation for a fight. 

But Raph just sighed, no hint of aggression in his body language. 

“We were gonna have you meet Dad now,” he explained, “Master Splinter, technically. You  _ probably _ shouldn’t call him Dad right away- it might freak him out.” 

Donatello was completely taken aback: first, his brothers let him stay the night, then fed him, and now he was going to meet his...what...half-father? Possibly the human experiment/action film star Lou Jitsu that he’d wanted nothing more than to avoid? Well, the brothers had been so nice to him, it wasn’t as if he had much of a choice. 

Besides, maybe he  _ did _ have a few things to say to Lou Jitsu after all. 

“Alright,” Donatello said, “I would be happy to meet your father.” 

“Sweet!” Mikey said, “let’s go.” 

So the three brothers led Donatello out of Mikey’s room and back down the hall. Donatello took deep breaths as he went, gathering as much nerve as he was able before the four of them re-entered the lounge, and Mikey bounded ahead. Raph and Leo came to a stop side-by-side, and Donatello stepped around them to survey the scene. 

The boys’ father appeared to be relaxing in the plush chair in the center of the room. There was a projector beside him that had been powered on and appeared to be playing some sort of advertisement Donatello didn’t recognize. He craned his head to try and see Splinter from his seat, but Mikey quickly blocked his line of sight.

“Okay, Dad,” Mikey said, “are you ready to meet Donnie?” 

“Yes, yes. I’m happy to meet your newest imaginary friend, Orange.” 

His voice was low and slightly rugged and followed by loud chewing noises. Not what Donatello had been expecting at all. 

“Oh, he’s not imaginary,” Mikey said, “he’s our long lost brother that was separated from us thirteen years ago.” 

“Ah, yes, of course- wait what?!” 

With that, Mikey stepped back to stand behind Donatello, and, slowly, Splinter turned the plush chair to face him. 

Donatello gasped. This was  _ not _ what he had been expecting. 

He had pictured a slightly disheveled and possibly unrecognizable Lou Jitsu. A human aged by time and the burden of raising three children alone. But Splinter was  _ not _ that. Splinter wasn’t even a human.

The rat that sat in front of him now, elbow deep in a bag of chips with crumbs scattered across his beard didn’t bear a single semblance to the Battle Nexus Champion. But, somehow, it was him. Donatello had no idea how he knew -family intuition, perhaps- but Splinter  _ was _ Lou Jitsu. Maybe it was the look of pure shock on the mutant’s face or the blink-and-you’ll-miss-it flicker of realization and regret in his eyes, but Donatello knew he had been recognized. Splinter knew exactly who he was: his guilt reincarnated. A ghost of the past come back to haunt him. To  _ hurt _ him.

Well, Splinter had hurt him first. Donatello figured he deserved whatever he had coming.

“Hello, Lou Jitsu,” he grumbled, crossing his arms with a glare. 

“Uh...what?” he heard Leo ask, but ignored him.

“Oh, you’re confused,” Mikey decided, “that’s not Lou Jitsu, that’s-”

“Quiet, Michelangelo,” Splinter spoke gently, avoiding Donatello’s gaze as he threw his chips to the side and shut off the projector behind him. 

“Dad?” 

Donatello looked over his shoulder: Raph, Leo, and Mikey were all staring with similar looks of confusion and disbelief, but Splinter just shook his head at them.

“We will talk later,” he said and pushed himself up to stand on the chair, putting him about a head shorter than Donatello. The rat wiped his face and robe clean, regaining his dignity and nerve before looking back up and resuming eye contact with his lost son.

“Hello...Donnie?” 

“That is  _ Donatello _ to you.”

He saw Splinter flinch but nodded nevertheless. 

“I understand you may have a quarrel with me, but I hope you have not been taking your anger out on my sons.”

There was a brief look of warning in his eyes. Donatello just scoffed. 

“Of course not,” he said, “ _ they _ have done nothing wrong.”

A brief, nearly deafening silence fell over the lounge. Splinter began to shift uncomfortably beneath Donatello’s glare, and the turtle looked away. His confidence was starting to slip. He was curling in on himself and trying to look smaller. He knew he needed to speak his part before he was no longer able to. 

“Why...why did you leave me?” he asked. 

Splinter looked back up, confusion written all over his face. 

“He said...he said you abandoned me,” Donatello continued, “you didn’t want me-  _ why _ ? Why would you take them, but not me? Did I do something wrong?” 

He was getting choked up now, and it was getting harder to speak without letting his voice crack. 

“Donatello-”

“Wha- was it my shell?” he asked, “that’s the only thing that was  _ different _ . It was the only thing  _ wrong _ . That’s it- there’s nothing else. Did you leave me because of my shell?” 

He bit back a sob, squeezing his eyes shut as tears began to blur his vision. He was determined not to cry in front of them- Splinter especially. He wasn’t going to let them know how much this hurt. 

“My boy…” 

Donatello opened his eyes to see Splinter reached out for him, and didn’t stop him as he placed a hand on his right arm. He squeezed gently, rubbing his thumb back and forth. It was an unfamiliar yet comforting motion, and as much as Donatello wanted to shove him away, he couldn’t. 

“I did not abandon you by choice,” Splinter said, “you do not know the extent of who I have become, but tell me, does that sound like something Lou Jitsu would do?” 

Donatello opened his mouth to answer, but ultimately just ended up shaking his head. 

“There was -and remains to this day- nothing wrong with you, Donatello. It was so many years ago, and yet I remember it so clearly. I had you in my arms. I had all four of you. We were fleeing together, and we were going to  _ stay _ together. But that  _ monster _ and that ooze- it was  _ everywhere _ . I was mutated, and in the pain...I lost sight of you. I do not remember so clearly how it happened, but there had not been a day where I do not regret losing you.” 

Donatello was usually so skeptical, but, somehow, he believed Splinter entirely. And just like that, it was if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. The huge burden, the forever unanswered question, it was gone. Donatello nodded, biting back his tears. He was still determined not to cry, but when Splinter gently pulled him into a hug, he collapsed into his arms. 

The old man smelled of rich seasoning with a slight tang of something expired, but Donatello didn’t mind. The warmth he provided more than made up for it, arms wound around the turtle’s shoulders as he rested his chin on his head. He spoke soft and kind words that only Donatello could hear, and -for possibly the first time- he returned the hug. 

The two of them remained like that for a few moments more, then three more pairs of arms began to wrap around them. 

Donatello flinched in surprise, having almost forgotten that Raph, Leo, and Mikey were still in the room, then relaxed again. He let Mikey nuzzle his cheek against his shoulder, allowed Raph to heave him off the ground with the rest of them, and didn’t even mind when Leo began to playfully jab him with his elbow. Then Raph released everyone back onto the floor, and they all pulled apart, a comfortable silence falling amongst them once more. 

“My son,” Splinter called, and Donatello didn’t realize he was talking to him until he placed a hand on his arm. 

“Who told you those lies in the first place?” 

Donatello froze.

“Oh! He was working with some evil sheep dude,” Mikey answered for him, “Baron...Draxum? I think?” 

Out the corner of his eye, Donatello saw Splinter gaping at him, but he had far bigger problems to deal with at the moment.

It was as if someone finally speaking the alchemist’s name had reminded him of everything he’d forgotten throughout his stay. Donatello was only supposed to have been gone for a couple of hours, but, instead, he’d spent the night and most of the morning in the lair. There was no way Huginn and Muninn had been able to cover for him for that long. Draxum was surely furious, and the only option now was to get back to the lab as fast as possible and beg for his forgiveness. 

Donatello had no time to lose. 

“I apologize- I need to go.” 

He tore away from Splinter’s grip and took off sprinting towards the exit. 

“Donnie!” 

“Hey- where are you going?!” 

“Don! Hey!”

“My son, please come back!” 

Donatello didn’t even have the time to look back and make sure they weren’t following him -that would only complicate everything- but the shouts from Splinter and his sons died down as soon as he got about halfway up the ladder to the surface, so it didn’t look like they were planning to follow. 

Donatello whipped out his tracker as he climbed, powering it on while he pushed open the hatch at the top of the rungs, climbing out before shoving it back into place. Donatello winced against the light shining overhead and realized with a terrifying start that it was the middle of the day. Motor vehicles were speeding down the streets and there were crowds of people jumbled all across the sidewalks. Donatello wouldn’t make it half a block without being revealed. He would have to take the long way back to the portal, braving the twists and turns of the alleyways to avoid getting discovered and, ultimately, outing all of yōkai kind. 

So he whipped around and took off sprinting further into the alleyway, whipping out his tracker and pulling his hood up as his cloak fluttered and snapped behind him. 

Donatello’s heart pounded in his ears as he ran. He was grateful beyond belief for his limb clamps, because he was certain that without them his legs would be jelly by now. Without all his tech, he could never have hoped to take so many sharp turns while keeping his pace, feet slamming against stone as he worked up a sweat, breathing like he had no oxygen to spare and running like his life depended on it. For all he knew, it very well might.

Then his tracker began to beep, and he took one last screeching right turn, stumbling to a halt in the alleyway with the dumpster that had portaled him out of the Hidden City in the first place. 

He shoved his tracker back into his battle shell and threw open the dumpster’s lid, peeking inside before the stink of rot and expired food pierced his nose, and he stepped back. 

Was he really going to go dumpster diving for a portal to get him back home?

...Yes. Absolutely. It was game over if he didn’t. 

So Donatello held his breath, stepped back up to the bin, and vaulted himself inside. He cringed as something slimy brushed against his ankle, but ignored it in favor of shoving garbage bags aside until he found the green glow of the portal. 

His foot slipped, his breath ran out, and he caught one last whiff of dumpster air before he slid straight through the portal and slammed into the rock platform on the other side. 

He let out a low groan, clutching his now aching shoulder as he rolled onto his back, watching with a bitter glare as the portal pulsed and glowed above him, its beautiful light becoming a taunt as Donatello pushed himself to his feet. 

He was back in the Hidden City. But he still had a ways to go.

So he pulled the cape of his cloak up and activated the routers of his battle shell. He kicked off from the ground and the shell propelled him forward, wind whipping at his face, pushing his hood back down as he soared over the path that would take him back to the lab. He was opting for speed over stealth at this point: Draxum already knew he had left, after all. 

Then he saw the lab begin to rise in the distance, getting closer and closer until he was right above one of the many gaping holes in the lab’s ceiling. He pulled himself to a halt, then slowly had his battle shell lower him down into the lab. Once he was close enough to the ground, he deactivated the rotors and dropped onto his feet, taking a moment to catch his breath as he surveyed the area around him

Draxum, predictably, hadn’t gotten much reconstruction done during the time he was gone. The lab was still almost exactly as he’d left it. 

“I see you’ve finally decided to grace us with your presence.” 

Unfortunately, Draxum wasn’t.

Donatello whipped around to see the alchemist standing only a few feet away, arms crossed as he glared down at the turtle who shrunk beneath his gaze. Huginn and Muninn were perched awkwardly on his shoulders, the latter avoiding eye contact with Donatello while the former mouthed something along the lines of “sorry”. 

“So,” Draxum said, taking a step forward as Donatello stumbled back, “would you like to tell me exactly where you’ve been?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think Donato's had one good day this entire fic, and I am so sorry about that. I promise I've got good things planned for him, they'll get here soon enough   
> But I'm really glad you guys are liking this so far! I know the updates have gotten slower because I've been a lot busier recently, but thank you all for continuing to read anyway :D


	8. Point of No Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donato returns home and gets exactly what he expected after being gone for an entire night and longer. Then Draxum backs him into a corner, and he's forced to make a decision with even graver consequences.

Donatello was a smart guy, but it didn’t take a genius to know that he was in deep, deep trouble. 

It took all his concentration to avoid shaking and bowing his head, sputtering out a half-rehearsed apology and accepting whatever punishment came with it. But Draxum’s question surprised him: would he like to tell him exactly where he’d been? That implied that Huginn and Muninn hadn’t ratted him out completely. Maybe he wasn’t in as much trouble as he thought. Maybe he could find a way to turn this in his favor. 

“I...I was at the market,” Donatello bluffed, making a visible effort to not look the alchemist in the eye. 

“Do not lie to me,” Draxum snapped, and took a step closer, “I will admit, you caught me off-guard. I did not expect someone who I thought was so intelligent to do something so idiotic. And while you recruited my gargoyles to cover for you, they gave you up as soon as I realized you were gone. You should have known that they are loyal to  me and me _alone_.” 

Muninn shifted uncomfortably on Draxum’s shoulder, and while Huginn looked like he wanted to speak up, he wisely decided against it. Obviously, they had gotten their own tongue-lashing from Draxum after Donatello disappeared, and he couldn’t exactly blame them for choosing to throw him under the bus. 

“So, I am only going to ask you once more,” Draxum continued, “where did you go?” 

Donatello weighed his options, and eventually settled for the truth...with a few omissions. 

“I...I went to the surface,” he admitted and saw Draxum’s scowl harden, “I wanted to see what it was like. I’ve never left the Hidden City, I just wanted-” 

“You are a terrible liar, Donatello,” Draxum interjected, “I believe you went to the surface, yes. I would have found you if you had stayed in the Hidden City. But you did not disobey me and sneak out to become a tourist with a target on your back. You had a reason. What was it?” 

Donatello’s thoughts flitted briefly back to his stay with his brothers, his pounding heart and terrified expression softening upon recalling those memories. 

“Oh, I see,” Draxum realized, “you wanted to find the other turtles.”

“No!” he said quickly. 

“Silence!” 

Donatello stopped talking. 

“You went out to find them, to talk to them. How despairing. I thought you were smarter than that. Did they welcome you with open arms? Or did they drive you out, shun you for a villain.” 

Donatello wanted to tell him  _ no _ , that they didn’t do that at all, but he couldn’t seem to find the words to stand up to Draxum.

“Oh- or did they let you in their home, let you stay, accepting you like family, lulling you into a false sense of togetherness and security until you let your guard down enough for them to deliver the final blow.” 

“They aren’t like that,” Donatello protested weakly, “if you would just-” 

“You have no idea what those mutants are like,” Draxum interjected, “I created them to be vicious warriors, just like you. Why should they have turned out any different?” 

“They...they  _ didn’t _ -” 

“Speaking of their creation, did you happen to run into my human experiment while you were participating in your little slumber party?” Draxum asked, “did he tell you everything? Exactly why he left you?”

“He didn’t leave me!” Donatello snapped, “he  _ dropped _ me because  _ you _ mutated him!” 

His accusations echoed off the walls, playing back in their heads before a tense silence fell over the lab. Draxum growled, and Donatello forced himself to stand his ground. Draxum was his mentor and caretaker, he was a genius and a force to be reckoned with, but this time he was wrong. 

“Oh, really?” the alchemist said, the lack of anger in his voice genuinely frightening, “well, I guess you have a choice to make, Donato. Do you believe  _ him _ , the human experiment who abandoned you, clasping for straws now that he realizes you’re still alive, desperate to save his reputation amongst the other turtles so he won’t look as heartless and cruel as we both know he is? Or do you believe  _ me _ , the one who saved you, raised you, cared for you, taught you everything you know, and the one who would never have abandoned you in that fire.” 

Donatello froze. How could Draxum do that? How could he make him choose? This was an impossible ultimatum, a decision he couldn’t make, even if he knew which way to go. His mind was reeling, Draxum was in his head, blurring his thoughts, manipulating his feelings. His morals and views were being turned on their ends, and suddenly nothing seemed like the right answer anymore. Whatever he chose, he was going to lose. 

“No answer?” Draxum scoffed, “well, then, I’ll decide for you. You will be staying with me. You will not return to the surface without my consent, and you will never see those turtles again. Your time for action is almost here, and we have a lot of training to do.” 

Draxum turned to walk away, and Donatello felt his mind clear as he went. There was a twist in his gut, a nauseous feeling at the thought of staying, and he knew he could no longer go back. He couldn’t trust the brothers, but he couldn’t trust Draxum either. 

“No!” Donatello said, straightening his posture and glaring the alchemist down as he turned back to face him. 

“Excuse me?” 

“Oh- he’s probably just tired, Boss,” Huginn said, jumping to save Donatello from his irreversible decision. 

“Yeah!” Muninn chimed in, “he’s been up on the surface so long, y’know, all that fresh air must have really gotten to his head.” 

“No,” Donatello repeated, ignoring the fear in the gargoyle’s’ eyes as they silently warned him to back off, “I am not tired, I am not under anyone’s influence but my own, and I am not staying here any longer.” 

Draxum scoffed, “this was amusing at first, but I tire of your pitiful, half-baked rebellion. Return to your room.  _ Now _ .” 

Donatello activated the rotors on his battle shell. 

“I will not ask again, Donato.” 

Donatello kicked off from the ground, and everything flew into motion. He got about halfway towards the gaping hole in the ceiling before Draxum reacted, summoning two thick purple vines that flew up and clamped around his left ankle. He was pulled to a jutting halt mid-air, rotors sputtering, spinning faster and faster to fight against the strength of the vines dragging Donatello down. 

“It is useless to fight me!” Draxum bellowed. 

Donatello ignored him in favor of bending down to pull at the vines around his ankle. But they were curling tighter by the second, on the verge of cutting off circulation and far too thick to be pulled apart by his own hands. 

The vines snapped downward and Donatello lost his grip, but his rotors continued to pull him upwards, strong enough to prevent Draxum from slamming him to the ground. 

Donatello fumbled for his tech bo with shaky hands. The vines tightened, and his ankle throbbed. His left leg was seizing up, its respective limb clamp flashing red to signal a malfunction. If one of them didn’t cave soon, Donatello was sure his leg would end up dislocated, or worse. 

“Stop!” Donatello cried, stalling for time as his hand flailed inside the storage compartment of his battle shell. His fingers brushed against his tracker, spare parts, nuts and bolts, and he cursed himself for not having sorted through his storage before he left. 

“I have worked far too hard for this to let you leave!” Draxum said, “give up, Donatello! You have nowhere to go! You would not survive a day above or below ground without me!” 

Donatello clamped his hand around his shrunken tech bo, and as soon as he drew it another vine shot up from the ground and sliced straight through his right rotor. His shell throbbed, and Donatello shrieked as he was tugged down momentarily, then his last remaining rotor kicked into high-gear, giving everything it had left to keep him in the air. 

A spike of pain shot up his leg, and he knew he needed to act fast.

“I'm not staying with you!” Donatello spat, activating the full length of his tech bo, “just leave me  _ alone _ !” 

Swinging his tech bo downwards, he used the blades to slice through the vines around his ankle, and as soon as he was free, shot upwards like a slingshot, spiraling uncontrollably through the air as he clutched his tech bo, the last remaining rotor sputtering and whirring to carry him through the gaping hole and away from the lab. 

Donatello watched his home disappear over his shoulder, but he forced himself not to think about it. He ignored the dizzying thoughts in his head as he flew in the direction of the portal to the surface, tech bo clutched tightly in hand. Draxum was right, after all: he would find him if he stayed in the Hidden City. 

In the distance, Donatello spotted the soft green glow of the portal amongst the rocky, mountainous terrain, but with only one rotor he wasn’t able to land. He brought himself to as slow of a stop as possible upon reaching the cove, but still ended up coming in far too quickly. He angled himself at the last second to speed right into the portal instead of crashing into a wall, and after a flash of bright light and a whiff of human garbage, he was shooting out from the dumpster once again. 

He barely managed to register the alleyway around him before his rotor jutted and his left side was slammed against a wall. He groaned as a wave of pain shot through his ankle, then he spiraled downwards. His battle shell broke his fall against the ground, crushed beneath his body as loose pieces of metal broke and spun out from underneath him. His shell throbbed, ankle pounding as the last rotor finally whirred to a stop, broken and useless. 

Tentatively, Donatello moved his shaking hands to push himself up, only to find that the tech clamps on his left arm and leg were both crushed and deactivated, leaving his left side weak and horribly unbalanced. 

So he simply continued to lay in the alley, wincing underneath the harsh glare of the sun directly above him. The ground was hot, and he could hear humans talking as they passed on the sidewalk, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. His tech had been destroyed by the very person he’d built it for, his weapon laying too far for him to reach, leaving him defenseless and out in the open of the surface. 

Donatello needed to move. He needed to put distance between himself and the portal. But when he tried to put weight on his ankle, it burned. It was useless.  _ He _ was useless. 

But he couldn’t afford to stay where he was. Slowly, he rolled himself onto his plastron, wincing at the sounds of scraping metal as he went, trying his best not to knock his ankle against anything. When he had succeeded in rolling over, he reached out with his left hand to snatch up his tech bo, ignoring the aching all over his body as he forced himself to his knees. 

His vision blurred, he began to fall forward, then he thrust the end of his tech bo against the ground to steady himself, clutching the tech as his vision focused back in. He let out an involuntary whimper at the throb in his left knee and gave himself a brief moment of rest to collect himself, pulling the hood of his cloak up over his head. 

Donatello couldn’t remember ever being this hurt. Then again, his memories had never been terribly trustworthy. He’d sparred with Draxum more times than he could count, and other than a mild concussion or sprain once every blue moon, he had never felt quite like this. 

And he had never thought that Draxum had gone so  _ easy _ on him during all those training sessions. 

But Donatello didn’t have time to dwell on that now. He needed to hide. So he pushed up against his tech bo, hands shaking as he found his way to his feet, making sure not to put much -if not any- weight on his left leg. Swapping his tech bo over to his left hand, he pressed a button to retract the blades at the top, then another to flatten and curve it out, allowing him to rest it under his left arm in a crutch-like fashion. 

He moved slowly into the alley at first, one step with his right leg, then one swing with his tech bo. His left arm shook with every foot forward, no longer supported by the strength of his clamps, so he eventually had to hold his tech bo with both hands to keep from toppling over again. But, slowly and surely, he made his way into the portion of the alley shielded from the view of the street, taking a left and putting himself in front of a long straight-away without any immediate exits other than the one behind him. And, thankfully, there was a large cardboard box tucked upright between two trash cans. 

Donatello cringed at the thought of actually sleeping there, then realized he didn’t have a choice. Just finding a box big enough to comfortably fit in was a lucky streak, and even if he did decide to try and test his luck by moving on, he doubted his ankle would let him. 

So he hobbled over to the box and slowly lowered himself back to his knees. As cautiously as possible, he turned and sat on the edge of the box before scooting backward, going until his crumpled battle shell hit the cardboard behind him. He then turned and scooted against the far left side, deciding that he would be able to fit -considering that the box was on its side and far wider than he’d predicted- and pulling his legs in as well, stretching them against the cardboard beneath him before shrinking his tech bo and pulling the flaps on his left shut, making sure to fold them so they wouldn’t start randomly popping open when he didn’t want them to. 

Finally, Donatello was safe. 

...Relatively. 

He let out a long sigh, pulling his right knee up and burying his face in his arms. He was safe, yes, but he was not alright. His ankle was still throbbing with pain, and the back of his shell felt like it had somehow been grazed in his scramble to escape. Even worse, Draxum was likely looking for him. The Hidden City was now off-limits, and soon Donatello would need to find a place to hide on the surface as well. He was alone and injured, and he had nothing but a thin cloak, two working limb clamps, a tech bo, his wrist screen, a tracker, and a shredded battle shell. 

And, as if that wasn’t already the worst of it, his ankle was undoubtedly sprained. 

How were you supposed to treat a sprained ankle, again? Draxum certainly never taught him any first aid, and the few tricks he’d gotten off the internet had started slipping through the cracks in his memory a while ago. And now his ankle was throbbing and starting to swell, becoming more discolored by the minute. He definitely wasn’t going to be able to walk again until it started to heal. 

Well, if he was going to be in this box for a while, he might as well check on the damage he couldn’t clearly see. So Donatello carefully reached up and loosened the clamps of his battle shell. He lifted it from his shoulders, then swung it around and gently laid it on his lap. 

Ah, so that was why his shell was throbbing: the artificial cover had been completely sliced through. There was a large strike right through the right side of the battle shell, the rotor having been completely knocked off, allowing him to stick his hand through the sliced portion and have it appear on the other side. It had undoubtedly been a result of Draxum’s vines, but what concerned Donatello most was that his shell was still aching, despite the alleviation of no longer having to support the battle shell. 

Tentatively, Donatello reached his hand around to brush across his carapace. He felt a spike of pain, gasping when his fingers brushed his apparent wound. He brought his hand back, only to discover that his fingers were now coated in red. 

Donatello suddenly felt lightheaded, and was afraid for a split second that he might pass out. Then the shock receded, and he realized he couldn’t afford to. He would need to stay awake for as long as he possibly could. He needed to keep on-guard in case, against all odds, Draxum or one of his hired bounty hunters came looking in the alleyway. He needed to be ready to defend himself without a moment’s notice.

After all, that’s what he’d signed up for when he chose to make an enemy of Baron Draxum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glad you've all formed an emotional connection to Donato :) would be a shame if something were to happen to him :)  
> If it's any consolation, I don't think things are going to get any worse for him than this, and the next chapter is gonna switch things up a bit, so look forward to that!  
> As always, thank you all so much for the kudos and comments! I know I've been saying that every chapter, but I really do appreciate it. And, if you happen to have any questions about the story that aren't too spoiler-y, feel free to ask- I love answering comments


	9. Search And Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raph, Leo, and Mikey mount a search to find their runaway brother. But their efforts to help only seem to make everyone's situation worse.

(Mikey's P.O.V.)

“How could you not tell us you’re Lou Jitsu?!” 

“Yeah, you’d think that’d be the one thing you  _ didn’t _ keep from your sons!” 

“I do not have to answer to either of you! This is a discussion for another time!” 

As much as Mikey wanted to intervene and break up the rapidly escalating argument behind him, he wasn’t sure he could move if he tried. His eyes were fixed on the living room doorway that Donnie had disappeared through minutes ago. Mikey couldn’t understand why, but he felt that if he didn’t stop watching it, maybe, just maybe, his brother would come back. 

Why had he even left in the first place? Had it been Mikey’s fault? It wasn’t until he decided to open his big mouth and mention Draxum that Donnie decided to bolt, after all. But he swore they had been getting through to him. They had been bonding. Everything had been great. Why would Donnie just leave?

“You are being  _ so _ unfair right now!” 

A shout from Leo snapped Mikey out of his thoughts, and he finally tore his eyes away from the doorway to turn around. Raph and Leo were glaring down at Splinter with their arms crossed, and their father was staring right back up at them with a seething look of disapproval. 

“You know what? You are all  _ grounded _ !” 

“What?!” 

“Are you serious right now?!” 

Mikey flinched: they had all been getting along so well minutes ago. How had everything changed so fast?

“For not telling me  _ you _ knew Baron Draxum!” Splinter continued, pointing a finger in Leo’s face. 

The blue-clad turtle just slapped his hand away, “what about all  _ your _ secrets?! Huh,  _ Lou Jitsu _ ?!” 

“I will not ground me for my secrets!” 

“Guys!” Mikey snapped, and, finally, the shouting came to a stop, all eyes on him. 

“This is ridiculous!” he continued. 

“Yeah, ridiculous that Pops never told us he’s LJ,” Raph grumbled. 

“ _ No _ ,” Mikey said, “I mean -technically- yes, but I think we’ve got bigger things to worry about than Dad being an action film star.”

“Do we?” Leo asked. 

Mikey huffed, “our fourth brother just  _ ran away _ , and you’re seriously more worried about Lou Jitsu?” 

A silence fell over the four of them, and suddenly Raph, Leo, and Splinter were all avoiding eye contact. 

“Exactly,” Mikey said, “we can talk about how sorry we are that we kept secrets from each other later, but right now a member of our family is putting himself in danger Pizza Supreme knows where, and we’ve gotta go find him...right?...Mad Dogs?” 

He saw the gears turning in the other’s’ heads, then Raph nodded. 

“Right, Mikey,” he said, “Rule #1 of the Mad Dogs Code: we always look out for family.” 

“Right as rain, brother,” Leo said, then stepped forward and put his hand out in the middle of the room. Mikey put his hand on top of his, and Raph followed. 

They all looked to Splinter. 

“...It is a good rule,” their father decided, then added his hand to the pile as well. 

“I am sorry for shouting, my sons,” he continued, “and for not telling you who I truly was. I promise all will be explained shortly, but Orange is right. You must find your brother first.” 

“Alright!” Raph said, “Mad Dogs on three! One, two, three!” 

“Mad Dogs!” 

\---

It had been several hours since the family had agreed to head out on their search for Donnie, but even as it started getting dark and the moon began to rise in the sky, they had gotten no closer to success. 

While Splinter opted for remaining back at the lair in case Donnie happened to come back on his own, the three brothers split up early on, separating the nearby vicinity of Manhattan into thirds and slowly working their way back to the center. None of them were sure what they were looking for -another mystic portal back to the underground city, maybe?- but whatever it was, they didn’t find it. 

By the time the clocks on their phones struck 12:15 AM, they had all met back up on a rooftop in the center of the city, no more than a few blocks away from the lair. 

“Well, I’ve got nothing,” Leo declared, taking a seat at the edge of the roof, leaning against the hilt of his sword. 

“Alright, alright, just let me think,” Raph instructed, turning away from his brothers to concentrate. 

Mikey racked his mind for a possible solution to their predicament, foot tapping anxiously as he peered over the edge of the roof, scanning the borderline deserted streets below, as if by simply looking at them hard enough he would will Donnie to appear. 

He knew that, as the leader, coming up with plans was supposed to be Raph’s thing. But when it came to one of the brothers getting in danger, all bets were off. That’s how it had always been with the three of them: why should it be any different with Donnie?

“Maybe we could call April?” Mikey suggested, “some extra eyes wouldn’t hurt, right?” 

Mikey had been sure to send a quick explanatory text to their best friend before starting his search, and she had assured them that if they needed any help, she would meet them whenever, wherever, no questions asked. 

“Yeah...somehow I doubt she’d be too interested in helping if we came in and woke her up at midnight without a solid lead,” Leo said, “besides, she has school tomorrow. Her parents would be pissed if she got another write-up for falling asleep in class.”

Mikey frowned, but didn’t try to argue. He knew Leo was right. 

“I don’t know, guys,” Raph sighed, turning back to face his brothers, “we haven’t seen any sign of him all night. Maybe we should head back home.”

“No!” Mikey protested, garnering tired looks from both Raph and Leo. 

“Miguel, we’ve been out here for  _ hours _ ,” Leo said, “I mean, who’s to say he didn’t just go back to that weird, underground city to report to Draxum. Dad already said he didn’t have a backup medallion to get us down there again, and it’s not like there’s just gonna be a mystic portal laying around somewhere.” 

“He’s got a point, Mikey.”

The youngest brother thought for a moment, then his eyes landed on the mystic sword supporting Leo’s arms. 

“Or...maybe there is!” he said, “Leo, your sword makes portals! Make us one to the underground city!” 

“Now hold on a sec-”

“Wait, no- maybe you’re onto something, Mike,” Leo said, pushing himself to his feet as he swung his sword up onto his shoulder, “I can totally portal us down there!”

“Okay, pump the brakes,” Raph said, “you’ve only made a portal twice, Leo. And both of them were on accident.” 

“Actually...it’s three times,” he corrected, “I may have been the one who stole your slice of pizza the other day.”

“That was  _ you _ ?!” 

“The point is,” Mikey interjected, “Leo knows how to make portals. He can do it.” 

The oldest brother still didn’t look convinced. 

“ _Come_ _on_ , Raph. Do you really want to leave our brother at the cruel mercy of that evil sheepman?” 

Mikey knew he wasn’t being very fair, but, then again, none of them exactly knew the intricacies of Draxum and Donnie’s relationship, anyway.

“... _ Fine _ ,” Raph decided finally, “we’ll portal in, look for a while, then portal out. No getting distracted, and no doing anything that doesn’t involve looking for Donnie. We don’t want to get stuck in another freaky explosion.” 

“Yeah, yeah, we got it,” Leo said, turning his back to Raph to make it clear he was no longer paying attention. 

Mikey watched, brimming with anticipation as Leo straightened his sword and began moving the blade in a circular motion. Mikey fell in on Raph’s left as the sword sparked with blue magic, but after a few more rotations, it disappeared. 

Leo groaned, mumbling something to himself as he shook the hilt of the sword. 

“You can do it, Leo!” Mikey encouraged, earning a defensive smile from the blue-clad brother. 

“Of  _ course _ I can,” he said, “just...just give me a sec.” 

Leo swung his sword once, then twice, then he took a deep breath, and swung a third time. 

The blade of his sword crackled with blue static, a light shade illuminating the roof as a mystic portal appeared in a flash in front of them. Leo laughed, beaming in pride at his accomplishment, and Mikey joined him, throwing his arms around Leo’s shoulders. 

“You did it!” 

“I did it!” 

Mikey squeezed Leo tight, then felt Raph place a hand on his shoulder. 

“Alright,” he said, “time to focus.” 

As much as Mikey wanted to continue his positive reinforcement, he knew Raph was right. They all needed to be focused and on the same page to navigate the underground city again, so he released his grip on Leo and gave his two brothers a small nod. 

“Let’s go find Donnie.” 

Mikey stepped into the portal first, and was surprised to find that it was very similar to the one that Splinter’s medallion had created for them. The static tickled his skin as he fell, and he raised his arms to shield his face against the blue light flashing around him, invisible wind whipping through the tails of his mask. There was one last blinding flare of light, then the wind was knocked out of his lungs as he hit the ground upon coming out of the other end of the portal. 

Mikey let out a groan, rubbing his face as he pushed himself to his knees. He heard shrieks from Raph and Leo as they landed on his left and right respectively, then shielded his eyes from another bright flash of light that signaled the close of the portal. 

Mikey could’ve done without the awkward landing, but at least they had arrived at the underground city. 

Wait...where were they, exactly? 

Mikey lowered his hands from his face, registering that his brothers were still beside him before taking a look around. 

When he realized where they were, however, he felt his breath catch in his throat. How, out of all the places Leo could’ve possibly dumped them, had they ended up back  _ here _ ? 

“Well, well, well. Isn’t this just my lucky day?” 

Mikey was slow to react when he heard Draxum’s voice behind them, but Raph and Leo pushed themselves up instantly, drawing their weapons and moving to shield Mikey as the youngest brother scrambled to his feet as well. He fumbled for the Kusari-Fundo strapped to his sash, gripping the handle in one hand and chain in the other, staring up at Draxum and his two shoulder gargoyles as the evil mutant stared, amused, right back. 

Mikey got a strange feeling of Deja Vu. The last time they had fought Draxum, however, they had -unintentionally- destroyed his entire lab. Yet it was nearly back in working order now, only a few chunks of debris and a hole in the ceiling to prove otherwise. 

Mikey wasn’t a genius, but he knew that Draxum could’ve never done that alone. 

“Alright, you sheep creep,” Raph growled, pointing a tonfa at their opponent, “just stay where you are and we won’t bash your face in.” 

“Yeah, this was all a really funny misunderstanding,” Leo said, “I’m sure we’ll all laugh about it later, but for now we’ll just be on our way and-”

“Where’s Donnie?” Mikey interjected, pushing his way up to stand between his two brothers. Raph gave him a warning look, but he ignored it. 

“‘Donnie’?” Draxum echoed, “I’m afraid I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do,” Mikey said, “his name is Donatello, and he’s our brother. He works with you. Where is he?” 

Mikey was surprising even himself by his steel and resolve: usually, it was Raph who handled negotiations like this, but for some reason the youngest brother didn’t feel like standing down. He wanted to find their brother and bring him home.

Draxum scoffed, “oh. You’re here for  _ him _ . Well, isn’t that just quaint?” 

“He asked you a question, Draxy,” Leo said, raising his sword higher, “where’s our brother?” 

Draxum sighed, “I’m afraid you just missed him. Pity. If you’d come just a few hours earlier, I’m sure your little ‘rescue mission’ would have been a success.” 

“Okay, so where is he now?” Leo asked. 

“Irrelevant,” Draxum declared with a wave of his hand, “but he’ll be back soon, I assure you.” 

“He will?” Mikey asked. 

“Without a doubt.” 

Before any of them had time to force him to elaborate, Draxum threw his hands up and a wave of purple vines erupted from the ground right between them. The earth shook as the brothers lunged backward, instinctively falling in to grab and protect each other. Leo took Mikey’s arm in his free hand, pointing his sword up at the quickly approaching vines as Raph also stepped forward to protect the youngest brother. 

One vine shot downward and curled around Leo’s wrist. His sword was torn from his grip, disappearing into the sea of vines before another hit him in the plastron and sent him flying backward. 

“Leo!” 

Raph grabbed Mikey and tried to pull him as he ran to their fallen brother, but two more vines closed around his arms and dragged him back, away from Mikey’s grasp. 

“Raph!” 

His tonfas were pulled from his hands, then the eldest brother got the same treatment as Leo, thrown backward over Mikey’s head. 

The last remaining brother made a half-baked attempt to run to his fallen family, but he too was quickly restrained by a wave of vines, one wrapping tightly around his middle before his weapon was pried from his fingers. As it disappeared into the sea of vines, Mikey realized he wasn’t going to get it back anytime soon. So he turned to prying at the vine around his middle, pushing and pulling with all his strength to get it to budge until it suddenly lifted him off the ground and chucked him backward. 

“Mikey!” 

His shell hit something hard, and despite the cover, a wave of pain shot through his body before he fell and hit the ground below him. Then a thin quilt of green vines closed in front of him, forcing him to scoot backward until his shell hit the pillar behind him. 

He was in one of Draxum’s makeshift cells, he realized. The same one Mayhem and that human teenager had gotten thrown in. Looking to his left and right, he saw Raph and Leo in the same predicament.

Ignoring the dull ache in his limbs, Mikey crawled forward and wrapped his hands around two of the vines. Bracing his feet against the dirt below, he pulled with all his strength, teeth gritting and muscles bulging as he tugged. But the vines refused to budge, and he quickly tired of trying to escape, letting himself fall backward in favor of sitting and watching Raph’s own futile attempts at smashing through the vines. 

“I would save your strength, if I were you,” Draxum spoke, and Mikey scooted back upon seeing him approaching their cells. The gargoyle on his right shoulder held Leo’s sword in his mouth, and the one on the left held Raph’s tonfas. Draxum himself was holding Mikey’s Kusari-Fundo, examining it as he spoke. 

“After all, I wouldn’t want my new warriors to exhaust themselves before their debut.” 

“Aw nah,” Raph growled, “we’d never fight for you!” 

“You will,” Draxum said nonchalantly, “if you want your precious brother to survive, that is.” 

Mikey’s heart nearly stopped at the mention of Donnie. 

“And he will return to fight for me if he wants  _ you _ to survive,” Draxum continued, “so, for your sake, I do hope he cares as much about you and you seem to care about him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my defense...at least Mikey got some screen time :)  
> (Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter- thank you sm for the kudos and comments! And make sure to tune in next time to see what happens now that everyone's had a truly bad 24 hours)


	10. Swallowing His Pride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Raph, Leo, and Mikey's rescue mission comes to light as Donato attempts to recover. But he quickly realizes that if he wants to save his brothers, he can't do it alone.

(Donato's P.O.V.)

Donatello wasn’t sure how, but he had fallen asleep. 

He had tried everything in his power to keep himself awake the night before: distracting himself by trying to fix his tech, reciting books from memory out loud, and even resorting to pinching himself or knocking his swollen ankle against the side of the box, hoping the pain would allow him to keep conscious. But he had still ended up dozing off, and awoke to the chirp of birds and the sun shining in through the cracks in the box only a few hours later. 

Donatello groaned, taking a moment to rub the sleep from his eyes. Thankfully, his minor injuries appeared to have already begun to heal. His shell ached far less than it had the night before -even with all his gear reattached- and even the swelling in his ankle had gone down a bit. He silently thanked his past self for deciding to keep the walking on it to a minimum. 

But Donatello had a new set of problems to deal with now. Even though his body was recovering, his mouth and throat were dry, and his stomach was already beginning to growl. He would need to come up with a substantial way of acquiring food and water if he was going to keep living like this. 

Any human establishments were out of the question, of course, so his first idea was to go beg and plead his way into Big Mama’s hotel. But he quickly realized that was nowhere near a feasible plan: even if he was able to get in for free without any of the guards recognizing him, there was no doubt that news of his stay would reach Big Mama, and she would either ransom him back to Draxum or simply go ahead and keep him for her Battle Nexus. Besides, begging like that was beneath him. He swore to himself that no matter how hungry or cold he got, he had to keep his dignity. 

Which was why going back to the brothers was also out of the question...amongst other reasons. 

Donatello let out a groan of frustration, leaning his battle shell against the cardboard behind him and pulling his cloak tighter around himself. It was cold, he realized. All the pain from the night before had efficiently distracted him from it, but even in the daytime, he found himself shivering. 

He should get moving, he decided. Even if he didn’t know where he was going, it would be good to stretch his one working leg. So, as quickly as he was able while still being cautious, he opened the flaps of the box and crawled out, equipping his tech bo to its full size and using it to push himself to his feet. 

The aura of the alleyway had changed drastically from the night before. It was still chilly and unwelcoming, but the sun had started to rise and was casting beams of light all around him, occasionally warming his skin before another gust of wind blew past. 

Donatello’s stomach rumbled, and he was thankful that, at the very least, he was alone. 

Tucking the rounded top of his tech bo underneath his left shoulder, he took a step forward. His arm didn’t ache nearly as bad as the night before, so he didn’t need to use both hands to support himself, but there was still a dull stabbing pain in his shell, and Donatello knew exactly what it was from. 

He needed to repair his battle shell, he realized. There was no way he could remain out in the open with such minimal protection. But when his stomach growled again, he found his resolve slipping. Food and water, or repairs? How could he choose?

After a moment of still, silent thinking, however, it became apparent that he wouldn’t need to. The cracked tech band around his left wrist had been flashing purple, signaling that he had received a message from his database. 

His database back in Draxum’s lab. 

Donatello swallowed the lump in his throat, which was excruciatingly hard given how dry his mouth was. Could Draxum have really figured out how to access his database and send a message to his tech? Huginn and Muninn knew how -they had done it several times as a prank- so, he supposed, it was possible with their help. 

And if Draxum was still furious, they would have had no choice but to help him. 

With shaky hands, Donatello raised his left wrist and accepted the message. 

Draxum’s face was instantly displayed on the screen, and the sight of him made Donatello’s stomach lurch. The alchemist was still in his lab, Huginn and Muninn perched on his shoulders, and although the audio and video were slightly corrupted due to the poor state of Donatello’s tech, he could still see and hear perfectly.

“Donatello,” Draxum greeted, “if this has reached you, that means my gargoyles have succeeded in reprogramming one of your drones to find your signal. I’m sure you’ve found your way back to the surface by now, but, I assure you, there is no need to worry about me coming to find you. What you  _ do _ need to be worrying about are your precious brothers.” 

Donatello’s heart jumped to his throat. He suddenly felt very, very sick. 

“Don’t be rude. Say hello, boys.” 

The camera angled back over Draxum’s shoulder, and the screen glitched, the image on his screen becoming distorted. 

“No!” 

Donatello slammed his hand against the screen in a moment of pure, unbridled fear, and the image returned to normal. Behind Draxum in three separate cages were Raph, Leo, and Mikey. The former was glaring up at the camera, while the middle bore a tired expression, and the latter a face of terror.

“Donnie!” Mikey cried, prying at the vines in front of him.

“Don’t listen to him, D!” Raph said, “I  _ know _ you know this is a trap!” 

Leo said nothing at all, and for some reason, that was the worst part. 

“I think that’s enough family bonding for today,” Draxum said, and the camera returned to its previous vantage point, blocking Donatello’s view of the brothers. 

“I believe you know what I’m about to request of you,” Draxum continued, “but I’ll say it anyway, so there’s no confusion. If there is to be any hope of your brothers’ survival, you will return to my lab. If you do so quickly and without defiance, I will  _ consider _ letting them go.” 

That was a lie and Donatello knew it. Now that he had them, the alchemist would do everything in his power to keep as many of his creations hostage as possible. 

“You’d better hurry,” Draxum said, “my patience has run thin.” 

The video cut out, and the tech on his wrist finally died.

“My brothers…” Donatello whimpered to no one but himself. He had done this. He held the blame for endangering his family. 

Draxum had no doubt found their lair -perhaps he’d found one of Donatello’s prototype trackers, or maybe he had known their location all along- and once he had arrived, kidnapped the brothers, leaving only Splinter behind. 

Splinter. 

Oh, Donatello had a  _ bad _ idea. 

For whatever reason, Draxum had chosen to leave Splinter alone. Maybe he didn’t know who he really was, and allowed the appearance of the elderly sewer rat to deceive him. But the import part was that he had left Splinter alone, which meant he was likely still back at the brothers’ lair.

Donatello reached behind him and pulled his last piece of working tech from his battle shell: the tracker. 

It wasn’t ideal, but if he was going to save his brothers’ lives, he was going to need all the help he could get.

\---

Given his luck, Donatello half expected his tracker to break as soon as he started walking. Thankfully, even his scrappy, dented remote continued to work, holding onto its last bit of battery as Donatello limped on his tech bo through the back alleys. Then again, he had built it himself. Of course it was going to be durable.

As expected, the three other dots that signify his brothers’ locations had disappeared, but thankfully their DNA residue from all the time spent at their lair was enough for the tracker to work off of. 

By the time Donatello arrived at the sewer lid and his tracker began to beep, his left arm was throbbing from the pressure of his crutch and he was starting to have difficulty walking. But he couldn’t leave now. He tucked his tracker back away into his battle shell, then bent down and slowly pried the lid open. After shrinking and tucking his tech bo away in his battle shell, he lowered himself onto the ladder, careful to only use his right foot and hands for balance. He pulled the sewer lid closed above him, and the descending tunnel fell into darkness. 

Donatello wasn’t sure how long he climbed, but it was too long. The descent was terrifyingly silent, only the sounds of dripping water and his hands padding against the ladder rungs, allowing his thoughts and worries to grow so rapidly, pounding in his head like the throb in his ankle that hung uselessly below him.

Finally, he reached the ground. He re-equipped his tech bo, but forwent the crutch feature in favor of using it as a walking stick, spurring him down the well-lit hallway until he reached the living room. 

Donatello expected furniture to be turned over, walls to be torn apart, belongings scattered as a sign of a struggle. What he did not expect to find was everything completely intact, Splinter sitting on his plush chair in the center of the room, flipping through the pages of an old book, acting like his sons hadn’t been kidnapped for blackmail. 

But that is what he found. 

“S...Splinter...?

It was a quiet and pathetic call, but Donatello couldn’t muster anything louder. Thankfully, the rat heard him. Splinter’s head shot to the left, and he threw his book against a nearby table before jumping up and running over. 

“Donatello…” his eyes grew wide as he scanned his son’s injuries, “what happened to you?” 

Donatello opened his mouth to speak, but Splinter interjected.

“Nevermind that, you can tell me another time. For now, you must sit and let me help you.” 

He raised his hand to take Donatello’s arm, but he pulled away. Splinter flinched, and Donatello faltered. It was taking all his strength to stay upright, both hands clutching his tech bo like a lifeline. It was all he had left, after all. It was the only thing he could trust. 

“My son-”

“You are not my father,” Donatello growled, “and if you really were theirs, you wouldn’t have let Draxum take them.” 

Donatello expected guilt, but Splinter just looked confused. 

“Who- what are you talking about? Who did Draxum take?” 

Donatello’s grip on his tech bo became strangling. 

“Your supposed ‘sons’!” he snapped, “who else?! Draxum kidnapped them from your home, and you didn’t even notice!” 

“What?! Draxum has my boys?!” 

Why was Splinter treating this as new information? Donatello didn’t understand. 

“He...he took them right in front of you!” Donatello said, “...didn’t he?” 

He was confused. And he  _ hated _ being confused. 

“I have not seen Draxum since the day he mutated me!” Splinter said, “how could he have taken my-”

Splinter stopped, and Donatello saw the gears turning in his head.

“When did this happen?” he asked finally, “when did he take my sons?” 

“Last night...I assume,” Donatello grumbled, “he sent me a message this morning.” 

Maybe Splinter had just gone out for food or materials. That would explain why he had no idea. 

“That is why they did not come home…” Splinter realized, running a hand down his face with a sigh, “oh, my boys- I thought they had just lost track of time or had stayed the night with April-”

“They were  _ out _ ?” Donatello asked, “you let them go out?!” 

“They were  _ out _ because they were searching for  _ you _ !” 

For a moment, Splinter’s words refused to register. That didn’t make sense. Why would Raph, Leo, and Mikey have been looking for him? He’d left them and tried to make it as apparent as possible that he didn’t want them to follow. Why would they waste the effort? 

“They were worried about you,” Splinter said, as if he could read Donatello’s mind, “you are their brother. Like it or not, that is what they see. I remained here in case you decided to come back, but now I see I should have been with my family.” 

That couldn’t be it. That couldn’t be all there was. They had to have had some ulterior motive: they wouldn’t have gone looking for him just because they “worried”. 

“We must rescue my boys,” Splinter decided, “we cannot allow Draxum to keep them any longer. But I will need to see that message he sent you in order to come up with a plan.” 

Donatello felt lightheaded. His grip on his tech bo started to loosen, and he became acutely aware that his peripheral vision was starting to blur. 

“We may need backup. Draxum is obviously a vicious foe, and we cannot risk going in underprepared.” 

Splinter’s voice began to fade out. Donatello tried to fight against his fatigue, but his body only continued to drag him down.

“What do you think, Donatello?” 

He lost his grip on his tech bo, and the weapon slid out from under him before he hit the floor below, head spinning as hands clutched his shoulders and a distant voice called his name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow- having Donnie pass out at the end of a traumatic arc? Can you tell I read Like Father Like Son? (I swear it wasn't planned just coincidental-)   
> I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, and I really can't wait to get started on the next one! Hopefully it all works out the way I want it to, and if it does I know it's going to be one of my favorite chapters to write. Until then though, thank you all for the kudos and comments! Hope you're all enjoying the story!


	11. A Sister's Assistance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> April deals with stress from school, but quickly realizes there's an even bigger problem at foot than her grades. She provides Splinter with some tech support, and, even when the stakes continue to climb, there's never a bad time for family bonding.

(April's P.O.V.)

Sometimes April genuinely found herself asking why she hadn’t already snapped and abandoned her responsibilities in favor of running off to live in the woods. 

It had been a rough week for her, to say the least. Not only had she lost her job when her manager found out she used the company pool for a certain unregulated Cannonball Day, but her school also seemed to have it out for her lately, what with her teachers all piling on tests and projects with such little leeway. 

April cursed as the keys to her apartment slipped from her hands, clattering to the floor as she slung her backpack higher onto her shoulder, shifting her textbooks into her left arm so she could reach down and pick the keys up. 

Go figure. She had managed to balance her bag and books all the way home from school, but as soon as she got right in front of her door, of course things started going wrong. 

Kneeling down, April snatched the keys up and jiggled the proper one into the lock, shifting her books into the crook of her elbow as her arm began to ache. She turned the key, heard the click of the door, and shoved it open. 

“Mom? Dad?” 

No answer came as she stepped into the apartment, which April had expected. Her parents had both mentioned they might still be working by the time she returned home, and it appeared that they had been right. The apartment was empty and quiet, save for a distant feline-like chirp that April paid little attention to. 

Grappling with her keys and books, April pulled the former from the lock before dropping the latter loudly and ungracefully on the table beside the door. She would take them to her room later, she told herself as she closed and locked the door behind her. She would definitely remember. 

“Mayhem!” April called as she dropped her keys beside her books, shrugging her backpack off and letting it hit the floor behind her with a loud thud. 

“Oh, Mayhem!” 

No sooner had April finished her second call when the mystic cat appeared in the air above her with a flash of blue light. April beamed, stretching her arms out to catch him, stifling a laugh as Mayhem chirped and nuzzled against her neck, tickling her skin with his whiskers. 

“There you are,” she cooed, scratching the back of Mayhem’s head and ignoring the sharp jab of his claws against her shoulder. 

Mayhem had been a bit of a saving grace to April during the week of chaos. After bringing him home after her excursion with the boys in the underground city, her parents had been laid back enough to allow her to keep him, but made it clear they wouldn’t be paying for anything Mayhem would need in order to live with them. So April picked up a few extra shifts at her job -before getting fired, of course- and only realized after buying an entire salary’s worth of cat food and toys, that Mayhem didn’t  _ need _ any of it. 

Despite his affection for April and seeming enjoyment in being around her, he was very independent. After coming home one fateful afternoon to a dead bird in her room and feathers scattered all throughout the house, April was quick to realize that Mayhem largely preferred to catch his own food. He rejected any type of store-bought animal food she tried to give him, but was more than happy to teleport onto the dinner table and snag pieces of April’s own meal before blipping off to Pizza Supreme knows where to eat it. 

Her money hadn’t gone completely to waste, however. Mayhem did seem to have a passion for chasing around the tennis ball she’d gotten him, as well as tearing to shreds the catnip mouse that had long since been thrown out. 

But April didn’t mind most of Mayhem’s shenanigans. He was very cat-like, she began to realize, and came and went as he pleased when he wasn’t curled up on her bed or walking across her laptop to beg for attention. 

Also, he was mystic. So of course he was ten times cooler than any other pet in the world. 

“Alright, that’s enough, boy.” 

Mayhem’s claws were starting to pierce the shoulder of April’s jacket, so she bent down and set him on the floor, watching with a smile as he scampered off in the direction of her room. He was no doubt planning on sabotaging another study session, but April felt like she’d lose her mind if she had to play another game of tag with a teleporting cat that refused to give up her science packet. Besides, she was drained from school. She knew she should probably take at least a few hours to wind down before she started on homework. 

Instinctively, April reached for her phone in her back pocket to text one of her three turtle friends, then paused when she realized they likely wouldn’t be available. 

Mikey had explained it all in a quick text the night before: their long lost brother -the fourth turtle from the underground city- had found their home and tried to make amends, then ran out on them the next day. They had been searching for him ever since, with Splinter stationed back at the lair in case he decided to return. April had assured Mikey that they need only call and she’d be there to help them search, but she doubted they’d actually take that into consideration. Not because they didn’t value her contribution or capability, of course, but because they knew she’d been flocked with responsibility lately. As much as she tried to hide it, they knew. They were her family: of course they knew. 

April reached for her phone again anyway. She decided she’d check in on the brothers, then scroll through social media or something while she built up the energy to return to her schoolwork. 

What she found upon opening her phone, however, made her forget all about school. 

Apparently, Splinter had been blowing up her messages for the past few hours. She had fifteen unread texts, all of them consisting of either the numbers “911” -the family’s code for an emergency- or a plea for her to come to the lair ASAP, and bring her weapon. Along with the texts, she had five missed calls from Splinter, and before she could get over her shock and call him back, her phone began to buzz as his contact information flashed across the screen once again. 

April wasted no time picking up.

“Splints?! What’s the deal- what’s going on?!” 

“April! Where have you been?! Why have you not been answering?!” 

“I’ve been at school!” 

“And when has that stopped you from answering a call to action before?!” 

“Well  _ excuse me _ if my teacher took our phones for a test! I haven’t been on it since lunch!” 

There was a shaky sigh on Splinter’s end, and April’s anger deflated. 

“What’s going on, Splints? What’s the emergency?” 

April crossed the room as Splinter sorted through his words, digging her emergency baseball bat out from behind the couch and sliding back over to her school bag, pocketing her keys before unzipping the biggest pouch. 

“It is my son,” Splinter said finally.

“You have three, Splints. Which one?” 

“Four, actually. And...it is the fourth that is the problem.” 

April froze. So that’s what this was about: the fourth brother. What was his name again? Mikey had said it in his text. Donald, or Domino- something like that. 

“What’s the problem?” April asked, unzipping her backpack fully to shove her bat in as far as it would go, “did the boys find him?” 

“He came back on his own,” Splinter explained as April re-zipped her bag, slinging it up onto her shoulder, “he says Draxum has captured my sons and is holding them for ransom.”

April’s eyes widened. 

Oh, that sorry excuse for a sheepman did  _ not _ kidnap her best friends. 

“Hand the phone over,” April said, “let me grill him on my way there. We gotta know everything he does.” 

“Uh, that may be a little hard...he is unconscious.” 

“What? What happened to him?” 

“I did not get around to asking about that. Just get here as soon as you can. We are going to need your help.” 

“Be there ASAP, Splints. O’Neil out.” 

April hung up and pocketed her phone.

“Oh, Mayhem!” 

There was a chirp from down the hall, then the mystic cat teleported onto her shoulder in a flash of blue light. 

“You gotta get us down to the lair, alright?” she said, picking Mayhem up to cradle him in her arms, “it’s an emergency. Go it?” 

She wasn’t entirely sure how competent Mayhem was when it came to understanding her, but it was a gamble she was willing to take if it meant getting to Splinter faster. 

Mayhem started to purr, and April took that as a “yes”. 

“Okay, then. Let’s go!” 

For a moment, nothing happened, then Mayhem seemed to realize exactly what April was asking of him and wiggled out of her arms to climb up and perch on her head. 

There was a flash of blue light as the scenery of the apartment became distorted, and April raised her arms to cover her eyes. Her stomach lurched. There was the familiar feeling of falling she’d experienced the last time they’d teleported together. Then her feet touched solid ground, and she lowered her arms to see that she was now standing in the middle of the lair’s living room. 

“April!” 

Splinter was standing beside a puffed up air mattress, distress, and concern evident on his face. But the person laying on the mattress beside him was what really caught April’s eye. 

It was the fourth brother. She had never been able to get a proper look at him before, but now she could clearly see the family resemblance. Oddly enough, he bore many similarities to that of his brothers: the two fingers and anthropomorphic body structure were a given, but he also wore a dark purple mask that was eerily similar to the other brother’s’, as well as a set of arm and knee pads of the same color. 

But there were a lot of differences, too. For one, the turtle seemed to have tech attachments all over his body. There was a cracked screen wrapped around his lower left arm, as well as what April could only assume was a covering for his shell. There were also a pair of goggles and a purple and black staff sitting beside Splinter on the opposite side of the mattress. April could only assume that this brother was some kind of tech whiz. 

“Woah,” she said, and, as if her sigh set the scene back into motion, Mayhem jumped from her head and teleported mid-air to land on the floor above the turtle. He began sniffing at his head, and Splinter shooed him away and returned to the process of removing the turtle’s tech when the mystic cat had teleported out of the room. 

April took a few steps closer, then bent down to kneel at the edge of the mattress. Now that she was closer, she could see the collection of cuts and scrapes across his body, including a swollen ankle and an unnerving spot of dried blood on his right hand. 

“What happened to him?” she asked. 

On the other side of the mattress, Splinter removed the clamp around his left leg, observing it for a moment before tossing it haphazardly to the side. 

“Like I said, I did not get a chance to ask.” 

“Well, what can I do?” she asked. 

“Right now? I would appreciate it if you would retrieve my first aid-” 

As if on cue, Mayhem teleported back to sit above the turtle’s head, first aid kit in his mouth, tail wagging excitedly as he pawed at the mask tail below him. 

“Oh...thank you, cat,” Splinter said, taking the kit as April stared at Mayhem with a dropped jaw. 

Alright, so her pet was way smarter than she thought. She filed that information away for later. 

“We will need to remove all of this,” Splinter instructed, setting the kit down on his right, “I need to check his shell. There is a good chance it is injured.” 

“How?” April asked, leaning forward to begin prying at the tech clamp on the turtle’s right leg, “aren’t turtle shells built to be super protective?” 

“He has a soft shell,” Splinter explained, “he told me himself.” 

Ah, so that explained the shell cover. 

“What’s his name?” April asked, and after a second of prying, the clamp on his leg came loose, but not without cracking slightly down the side. April decided to ignore it, setting it on the floor and moving to the one on his right arm. 

“Donatello,” Splinter answered, gently pulling off the clamp on his other arm, “but I believe he goes by ‘Donato’ or ‘Donnie’.” 

April nodded to show she’d heard him, then pried the last remaining clamp off, setting it to the side. 

“Help me turn him over,” Splinter instructed. 

April slid her hands underneath Donnie’s artificial shell, keeping a tight grip on both sides as the two flipped him onto his front to reveal the damage done to his back. 

April gasped, and out the corner of her eye she saw Splinter draw back. 

There was a calculated slice going straight down the back right of the artificial shell. Chunks of tech had been broken and ripped off altogether, and there was a large, gaping hole in the material that revealed an injury on his real shell. It was a small clot of dried blood, roughly the size of April’s palm. She reached out to start removing the tech, then the shock of the turtle’s condition finally broke through her steel resolve and froze her. 

A few days ago, Donnie had been their enemy. But now April could see he was just a misguided kid. A teenager, just like her. And what could a kid possibly have done to deserve such a beating?

She didn’t want to try and guess, so she remained silent, watching as Splinter slowly detached the artificial shell and lifted it from Donnie’s back, reaching around to set it up on the recliner behind him. Thankfully, the rest of his shell appeared to be in good condition. It was only the part that had been exposed to the elements that was caked in dried blood and dirt. 

“I will go retrieve a wet cloth,” Splinter said quietly, pushing himself to his feet. 

“What do you want me to do?” April asked. She hated the thought of just sitting around while Splinter did all the work. 

“You have your school bag, yes?” Splinter asked. 

April had almost forgotten it was there. She nodded and shrugged said bag off of her shoulders, setting it on the floor to her left. 

“And you have your computer?” 

“Yeah.” 

“And you kind of know how to work this fancy tech...right?” 

“Yes...?”

She got the feeling she knew where this was going.

“Donatello said he received a message from Draxum about the boys,” Splinter explained, “we cannot afford to wait for him to wake up before we see it. Can you hack into his inventions to find it?” 

April let out a long sigh: just because she was taking a computer science class doesn’t mean she was a tech genius, but, she supposed, it didn’t hurt to try. 

“I’ll do my best, Splints,” she said, unzipping her bag, “just work on patching him up.”

Splinter nodded, and with that, he turned and made his way out towards the kitchen. 

“Okay, Mayhem,” April said, pulling out her computer and shoving her backpack away, inputting in her password and closing the tabs she’d been using for schoolwork, “if you were a mysterious blackmail video, where would you be?”

Mayhem didn’t reply, of course, and instead hopped up onto the back of Donnie’s head, stretching out across his neck before jumping back down to begin sniffing his way through all of Donnie’s discarded tech. 

“Well,  _ you’re _ no help.” 

So April simply returned to her backpack, pulling out a few cords and wires that she would hopefully be able to attach to one of Donnie’s inventions. She set the jumble of wires down at the edge of the mattress, silently thanking her past self for being too tired to unpack her bag right after school. 

Just before she could start looking through Donnie’s tech, however, there was a chirp from Mayhem, and April looked up to see the mystic cat jumping over Donnie’s legs, the screen that had been taken from his wrist hanging from his mouth. 

“What’s this, boy?” April asked, taking the tech and turning it over in her hands. It was cracked and looked to be out of power, but after a quick once-over, she discovered a series of familiar ports at the back. 

“Oh, you are on fire today, Mayhem!” April said, sitting back to pull her computer onto her lap as the cat chirped happily, purring and nuzzling against April’s leg. 

Quickly, she untangled the wires she’d pulled from her bag and tried connecting them to the tech until she found one that fit the port perfectly. Setting the tech back down, she plugged the other end of the wire into her computer, and a charging icon began to flash on the screen of Donnie’s tech. 

“Yes!” she cheered. At this rate, she likely wouldn’t need to hack into the tech at all. She simply had to wait for it to charge. 

And, after a few moments, it did just that. 

Once the charging icon disappeared, the screen lit up with a bright green hue, displaying the phrase “please input passcode or fingerprint scan”. 

Well, April wasn’t going to waste the whole day trying to guess Donnie’s password, so she grabbed his wrist without a second thought, raising his hand until his thumb was close enough to meet the screen, then held it there until it flashed purple, then returned to green. 

“I’m in!” she cheered, and dropped Donnie’s hand, “I’ve always wanted to say that.” 

“You’ve got it?” 

April hadn’t even noticed Splinter appear in the doorway, but he was there now, holding a bowl of water on one hand and a white rag in the other. 

“I’ve got it,” April confirmed, setting her computer to the side to begin scrolling through various pages of applications and recordings loaded onto Donnie’s tech, “I just need to find the video.” 

“Be quick,” Splinter said, taking a seat on the other side of the mattress as he began to wet the cloth in his hand, “I am not sure how long my sons have.” 

April stopped. Looking up, she saw Splinter staring down at Donnie with an unfixed gaze, hands clutching the rag so tight that water dripped down his arms and onto the floor. 

“Hey,” she said, snapping him out of his thoughts, “they’re gonna be fine, alright? We’re gonna get them back.” 

Splinter just nodded, returning her words of encouragement with a small smile as he began cleaning the back of Donnie’s shell. As April continued to scroll, Mayhem made his way back to the turtle, climbing up onto the very top part of his shell and curling up there. 

April had no idea how Donnie hadn’t woken up yet. 

Thankfully, even if he was completely out of it, his screen was very organized and easy to navigate. There were several audio files labeled “IMPORTANT” in big black letters, and even one that said, “DO NOT OPEN - HUGINN AND MUNINN THIS MEANS YOU”. 

April had no idea who either of those people were, but she could only assume they had a tendency to invade Donnie’s privacy. 

Finally, by the time Splinter had finished cleaning and bandaging Donnie’s wound and moved onto inspecting his swollen ankle, April found a promising video file. It was one of few unnamed files, appeared to have been received recently, and originated from some kind of droid camera. So April opened it, and an image of Baron Draxum grew to cover the screen.

“Splints!” April said, “I found it!” 

Abandoning the bandage wrap he had been doing on Donnie’s ankle, Splinter crawled over to sit on April’s right, taking the screen from her hands. 

“Draxum…” he growled, thumb shaking as it hovered over the play button. April watched anxiously, nails digging against her leggings as Splinter hesitated a second more. 

He pressed play. Draxum started talking. April’s skin crawled. 

She hadn’t been remotely afraid of him during their first meeting. She’d trusted her friend’s’ capabilities and it had paid off: they’d beat Draxum, and everyone had gotten out safely. But now it was different. Draxum had her friends, and there was no telling what he was going to do with them. 

April forced herself to stay quiet and listen as Draxum spoke, no matter how much she wanted to smash the tech to pieces. She knew they needed the information. 

Then the camera angle changed and April saw the boys. They had each been trapped in individual cages- identical to the one they’d sprung Mayhem from earlier that week. Mikey called to Donnie, Raph protested against Draxum’s demands, and Leo remained silent. Then the camera switched back, and Draxum continued. He said if the brothers were going to survive, Donnie would return to his lab immediately. If he did that, Draxum would let the others go. 

“You’d better hurry,” Draxum concluded, “my patience has run thin.”

The video stopped, and Splinter let the screen fall from his hands. 

For a devastating moment, no one spoke. There were only the distant sounds of dripping water and the rattle of sewer pipes to fill the void of conversation. Then April spoke up. 

“We’re gonna to get them,” April said, “right now.”

“April-”

“No- no way I’m waiting around any longer! You heard what that psycho said, Splints! Who knows how long we have before he starts picking turtles off?!” 

Splinter froze, and April silently cursed her blunt choice of language. 

“I’m just saying,” she pushed herself to her feet, “we don’t have time to wait.” 

“But we must,” Splinter said, pushing himself up as well, “my medallion is broken, and only Donatello knows how to come and go from the underground city.”

“Well, let’s wake him up, then!” 

“No!” Splinter protested, “he needs rest! He has been through a lot!” 

“You know who else is about to go through a lot? Your  _ other _ sons! He can handle a little lost sleep!” 

“He needs proper rest to fully recover! You need to trust my boys right now- they are far more capable than you know-”

“I cannot  _ believe _ that  _ I’m _ the one arguing to go rescue them!” 

“Oh, you must  _ stop _ using my sons like that, April!” 

Splinter’s lip began to quiver, and the argument halted completely. 

April hadn’t meant to make him upset: she just wanted to save the boys, and she knew they were running out of time. 

“...Splinter?” 

A new voice to April’s left made her jump, and she turned to see that Donnie was now awake, turned over and propped up on his elbows, fear in eyes, Mayhem purring happily by his side. 

Great. His first impression of her was when she viciously attacked his gargoyle friends, and his second was when she’d almost made his dad cry. Why couldn’t she ever make friends in a normal way? 

“My son!” 

Splinter was by his side in seconds, quickly inspecting his injuries before Donnie pulled back, hands flying to clutch his shoulders and arms. 

“My tech- where is my tech?” 

He was panicking. It became very obvious to April very quickly that Donnie’s inventions were his security blanket. 

“It is all right here,” Splinter explained calmly, “we needed to remove it to attend to your injuries. Speaking of, you should probably-”

Donnie blatantly ignored him, crawling across the mattress to grab his artificial shell from the recliner. He pulled it on over his real shell, and the clamps tightened on his shoulders and plastron with a hiss. Already looking more at ease, Donnie continued to collect the rest of his discarded tech, disregarding any warning Splinter tried to give him. He grabbed his goggles, snapping them on over his eyes, blinking a few times before continuing to grapple for his inventions. 

“Hey, dude.”

April figured, now that he was awake, it wouldn’t hurt to try and get some information out of him

“Uh...what happened to you.” 

Donnie froze with his hand over one of his limb clamps. He shot April a cautionary glance, then ignored her, picking up two of his clamps, turning them over before chucking them away. 

“Hey, I asked you a question, D.” 

She waved a hand in front of his face, and he immediately lunged backward. He snatched up his staff and pushed himself to his feet, wincing under the pain of his ankle as he slammed the end of the staff against the floor to act as a crutch. 

“It is alright, my son,” Splinter said, “no one is going to harm you here. We just want to know what happened to you.” 

Donnie contemplated his options, shooting glances between April and Splinter. 

“It is not important,” he said finally, “I simply need to repair my tech, then we can face Draxum and save your sons.” 

“You cannot walk, Donatello,” Splinter said, “we will need to give you proper time to recover before-”

“We don’t have time for anything like that!” 

April could tell Splinter was starting to get pretty annoyed with being interrupted, but he kept his irritation bottled up for Donnie’s sake. 

“Uh- you go make some tea, Splints,” April said, “I can talk some sense into him.” 

She gave him a pleading look, praying that he would realize this was the only way she was able to apologize at the moment. Splinter nodded, a small smile gracing his face as he accepted her apology. 

“I will make chamomile,” he said quietly, “to calm the nerves.” 

With that, he turned and wandered out of the living room, leaving April to deal with Donnie. 

“You don’t understand,” Donnie said, stepping up to look eye-to-eye with April, “we don’t have time for tea. My brothers are-”

“They’ll be fine,” April said, and she wasn’t sure if she was trying to reassure Donnie or herself, “trust them. They can handle themselves for a while.”

“They’ve already been handling themselves and look where  _ that _ got them!” 

“Sit down, D.” 

“I do not have the luxury to rest when-”

Mayhem hissed, and Donnie flinched, staggering backward until he toppled straight onto Splinter’s recliner. He quickly pushed himself up to perch on his feet, then decided to take a knee to avoid putting pressure on his ankle. 

“You  _ really _ shouldn’t let that thing follow you around,” he said, holding his staff defensively against his plastron, “it is an agent of the Council of Heads.” 

April looked down at her pet; Mayhem was now playing with one of the straps on April’s backpack.

“Yeah...sure,” April said, “look, Donnie, I know we kinda got off on the wrong foot, but if we’re gonna save the boys, we gotta work together. Alright?” 

Donnie wrung his hands around the material of his weapon as he weighed his options. 

“Implying that you aren’t angry with me?”

“What?” 

“I assumed you would be mad.” 

“Why would you think that?” 

“...It’s my fault your friends were captured by Draxum.” 

April sighed: this day was only getting longer and longer. 

“Tell me what happened,” she said, expression softening, “just...get it off your chest.” 

Donnie still seemed hesitant. 

“It’s okay. I won’t even tell Splints. Or the boys. But...I’m basically their sister, and you’re their brother, so we’re kinda like once-removed half adopted step-siblings, and I  _ always _ do my best to help my once-removed half adopted step-siblings.” 

April saw Donnie relax a bit, and she did, too. 

“Alright,” he said, “I will keep it short and simple. After finding the brothers for the first time and staying at this lair, I returned to Draxum’s laboratory. He was...upset with me. We had an argument, then a fight, and my tech-” 

His hand grazed over the back of his artificial shell, and he faltered. 

“-My tech was severely damaged. This morning, I got a message from Drauxm and assumed he raided the lair to kidnap the brothers, but when I arrived, Splinter told me otherwise. He claims that they were captured while out looking for me around the city. Is...is that the truth?” 

“Oh, yeah,” April said, “Mikey texted me before they went out. They spent hours looking for you, but I have no idea how they ended up in the underground city.”

April swore she saw the tension in Donnie’s face ease, and he finally slid down to sit properly on the recliner.

“But, hey, that doesn’t sound like your fault. Just because they were looking for you doesn’t mean it was because of you. It’s not like you’re the one who kidnapped them.” 

Donnie huffed. She got the feeling he was gearing up to say something along the lines of “says who?” or “I might as well be”, so she spoke up again before he got the chance. 

“Uh, speaking of the mystic city...we don’t know how to get in.” 

“What?” 

“Yeah, I followed a couple of goons the first time, then the boys used a medallion from Splints to come after me, but it’s broken now. We don’t have a way back, so we would  _ really _ appreciate it if you let us know how you keep doing it.” 

“...Portals,” Donnie answered. 

“Portals?” April echoed. 

“There are hundreds of them -most in constant flux- all around the Hidden City,” Donnie elaborated, “they lead to other portals in  _ this _ city, and there’s one specific portal I’ve been using. However, I doubt either of you will be very excited about its location.” 

“Well, where is it?” 

“If I tell you, will you promise not to go without me?” 

April didn’t expect that: she’d assumed that, after everything Donnie had gone through with Draxum, he’d want to stay behind.

“You want to go?” she asked. 

“Of course,” he said, “it is my fault all of this is happening in the first place, and...they are my brothers. They have already proven they would do the same for me.” 

April found herself smiling. As self-deprecating as that was, it was incredibly heartwarming. 

“I just need to find a way to repair my tech,” Donnie continued, “I don’t suppose you have any materials lying around- oh! That laptop would come in handy!” 

April looked over her shoulder to see Mayhem curled up on the keyboard of her computer. 

She sighed, “I think the boys have a room of spare parts and junk where they store stuff from dumpster dives.”

“And the computer?” 

“...Fine, you can have my computer. But when this is over, you’re building me a new one.” 

“Considering I could build a better one than that in my sleep, I’d say you have yourself a deal.” 

He reached out for a handshake. 

“And you’ll tell me where the portal is?” 

“And  _ you _ won’t leave without me?” 

“Deal.”

“Deal.” 

They shook on it. 

“So, how fast can you fix all this?” April asked, motioning to the cluster of purple and black-hued tech around her. 

For the first time since April had met him, she saw Donnie smile. 

“Time me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this chapter turned out a lot longer than I intended, but I had a lot of fun writing it! I know I've been switching POVs a lot lately, but I really felt that having this chapter focused on April gave a good, new perspective on the story (also, I may have wanted an excuse to write about Mayhem)   
> For the next chapter I was thinking about switching the POV to someone in Draxum's lab to give a sense of what's going on there, but I thought I'd ask you guys if you'd just rather I skip to the rescue. I don't want to make the story too all over the place with all the POV switches, so please let me know what you guys would prefer!


	12. Taking Care of Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time has come for Splinter, April, and Donato to storm Draxum's lab and rescue their family. But complications are inevitable, and their mission is bound to end in destruction and heartbreak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I know I said I'd most likely write the next chapter about the boys in Draxum's lab, but as I was writing it I just realized it was really out of character and giving me huge writer's block, so I decided to scrap it. But I think this chapter will more than make up for it. Enjoy!

(Donato's P.O.V.)

If Donatello hadn’t been through the excruciating and traumatic mental and physical twists and turns he had suffered during the past week, his ego would have been through the roof. But, of course, his mental health just had to dampen his incredible accomplishments. 

Using the parts from April’s computer, as well as some spare junk from the brothers’ storage room, Donatello managed to repair all of his tech. It was a rough job, and not exactly up to his standard, but it was finished by the end of the day. He had fixed the split in his battle shell, the circuits of his limb clamps, finished charging his wrist tech, and repaired the small cracks on his goggles. 

And while he worked, his body mended itself as well. The swelling in his ankle and the ache in his shell reduced dramatically, though he supposed that was thanks to Splinter and April’s incessant worrying over his condition. They forced him to eat and drink, April even resorting to intimidation tactics to pull him away from his work for occasional five-minute breaks. The Yōkai Agent was there as well, curled up beside Donatello’s leg whenever he wasn’t trying to disrupt his creative process by walking across his tech. Nevertheless, The Agent didn’t seem to register him as a threat anymore, which was great, because Donatello didn’t need the extra hassle.

By the time he finished repairing his tech, his ankle felt almost fully healed, and he could now walk without the support of his tech bo -which he’d also granted a small upgrade after he’d fixed everything else. 

Donatello was almost proud of himself. 

Almost.

There was still the ever-looming voice in the back of his head, reminding him of the dire situation he’d spent the past day doing relatively nothing about. His brothers were still in trouble, and it was still his fault, whether anyone else realized that or not.

Donatello ditched his cloak. There was no need for it now that he was no longer sneaking around and hiding out in alleyways, so he left it in the storage room with the rest of his discarded and irreparable scraps. All it did was remind him of Draxum, anyway.

Donatello made his way through the lair’s hall and back to the living room, where April, Splinter, and the Agent had regrouped after their last attempt at forcing Donatello to drink water, presumably to talk battle strategy. 

Once he entered, they paused their conversation, staring. Splinter had been pacing the floor beside his plush chair, while April stood off to the side, the Agent sitting on the arm of the chair, tail swishing as he watched on with curiosity. 

“How are you feeling, my boy?” Splinter asked. 

“Fine,” Donatello answered honestly, “I have repaired my tech, and I am ready to leave. What is our plan?” 

“You got this one, Splints?” April asked. 

Splinter nodded, clearing his throat before launching into his explanation. 

“Once we arrive at the portal and exit out into the city, we will find Draxum in his lab. You two will distract him, and I will bust my sons out. Then we will split, and perhaps go out for celebratory ice cream.” 

Donatello waited for a laugh, but as the silence between the three of them only extended, he realized Splinter wasn’t joking. 

“That is not a plan,” he said, “that is a  _ rough draft _ at best. Draxum will undoubtedly see us coming.” 

“Well, it’s all we could come up with,” April said with a huff, “but we already beat this guy once on accident, right? How hard could it be?” 

Donnie scoffed, “incredibly hard, actually.” 

“Well, big brain, what do  _ you _ suggest we do, then?” 

Donatello rolled his eyes at April’s hostility. At that point he had learned that she no longer saw the two of them as enemies, and it was now much easier to wave off her quips and jabs. 

“Draxum sent that video as bait to entice me,” Donatello explained, “I think he suspects I’ll come alone, so he won’t be expecting the two of you. But it’s a trap. We know that it’s a trap, he probably knows that we know it’s a trap, and, as a result, we know that he knows that we know-” 

“We get it!” April interjected. 

“My point is, it’s a trap!” Donatello continued, “he will most likely do something that forces me to surrender so he has all four of us under his control. That is what he wants: his mutant army.” 

“Then he has not hurt my sons,” Splinter realized, “if he needs them, they are in little danger.”

“If they’re with Draxum, they’re still in danger,” Donatello said, “I would not put it past him to hurt one of them to keep the others in line.” 

He saw Splinter’s eyes widened, and April leaned down to place a hand on his shoulder. 

“So we will need to get there as soon as possible,” Donatello continued, “are you both fit to fight?” 

“Oh, I’m fit to fight,” April said, plucking up her bat from the chair to swing it onto her shoulder. Beside her, the Agent perked up and teleported onto her head.

“I...am about as ready as I can be,” Splinter said, “you are right. Even if he does not plan to hurt them, there is no reason to delay.” 

“You sure your leg’s gonna hold up, D?” April asked. 

“It will be perfectly fine.”

He wasn’t entirely sure if that was the truth himself. He hadn’t exactly pushed his limits yet, but at least he was patched up and no longer starving and dehydrated. For now, that would have to do.

“Then let us go,” Splinter said, “my sons have been held captive long enough.”

\---

Donatello was surprised he still needed his portal tracker to find his way through the alleyway. He’d taken this path four times in the past couple days, and although that was hardly enough for the movements to be ingrained into his muscle memory, it would have been incredibly convenient if it were. 

Still, the three of them managed to find their way to the portal entrance in the dumpster. Just as Donatello had predicted, Splinter and April were both repulsed. But when it was made clear that there was no other way down, April plugged her nose and cannonballed straight in. Splinter shimmied his way into the dumpster next, then slipped and fell into the portal, and Donatello swung himself over and in right after him. 

Splinter broke Donatello’s fall on the other side, both of them groaning and cursing upon impact, rubbing their sore muscles on the ground until April tucked her bat underneath her arm to help them both up. 

They’d come out exactly where Donatello had expected. He saw Draxum’s lab in the distance, the pathway and the structure illuminated by the lights of the Hidden City. Then Donatello realized they had a problem no one had considered beforehand: they needed to find a way to get to the lab. 

Splinter and April began to ponder after Donatello explained the situation to them. The previous few times, he’d simply used his tech, but he’d only ever built the rotors on his battle shell to handle the weight of one passenger, and as frail as they were after a hasty repair, they definitely wouldn’t be able to support all three of them. 

Then, just before Donatello could start spit-balling ideas out loud, the Agent on April’s shoulder chirped, and suddenly his vision was blinded by a flash of blue light. His stomach lurched as the rock beneath his feet slipped from under him. He tipped backward, flailing his arms and squinting his eyes, then his battle shell hit the ground with a thud, and he realized they were no longer on the ledge across the city. 

The Agent had teleported them straight up to Draxum’s front door, now purring and nudging against April’s cheek as she resisted the urge to point and laugh at the misstep that had landed Donatello on his back. 

“Yes,  _ hilarious _ ,” he growled, and, after two failed attempts at pushing himself up -with clunky repairs his battle shell was far heavier than usual- April finally burst out laughing, but reached down and grabbed his arm to pull him up nevertheless. 

With that, Donatello pulled open the front doors, and the group continued onward. 

The entrance hall was dark. Thankfully, not pitch black, just dark enough that he could barely see the opposite wall and the set of double doors that led to the lab. 

Donatello advanced slowly, heart hammering in his chest. He’d expect never to come back again, and he wasn’t sure his mind had fully processed his return until now. His palms were sweaty, shivering with uncertainty as he reached around to grab his tech bo from the back of his battle shell. It grew to its full size with the press of a button, and the three of them reached the doors across the room. 

It seemed like so long ago that Donatello had stood in this hall beside Draxum, ready to fulfill his purpose and complete the mission he’d spent his whole life preparing for. But it had only been a week. Just one week. He was baffled at how much had changed in that one, measly, meaningful week. 

“My son.”

Donatello jumped as Splinter placed a hand on his right arm. It was hard to see in the dark, but Donatello was still able to make out the look of concern on Splinter’s face. 

“We will be right behind you.” 

Donatello looked to April. She nodded with an unfaltering and confident smile. 

He took in a long breath, puffing out his chest and swinging his tech bo in front of him. 

“Let’s go.” 

Donatello shifted his stance, and with one swift kick, he sent the doors to the lab flying open.

They hit the walls with equally loud thuds, deafening in the silence and stillness of the lab. It was only when the pitch black darkness of the room hit him that Donatello remembered his goggles. With a turn of the lenses, he switched on the night vision feature. 

Scanning the lab as he went, he was surprised to find that it was almost completely in-tact. The hole in the roof had been repaired, and there was no evidence of any sort of destruction in the first place, apart from a few chunks of stray debris that were still scattered across the floor. 

Then Donatello heard muffled screams, and he froze in place. 

He waited, listening, and after a few beats of deafening silence, the screams sounded again.

“What was that?” Splinter asked. 

Donatello whipped around, scanning the length of the lab until his eyes landed on the cells that wrapped the center pillar. In three individual compartments were each of the brothers, held back with vines wrapped tightly around their mouths, preventing them from speaking. 

“There they are!” Donatello said, an enormous weight suddenly lifting off his shoulders. He pointed to the cells, not yet registering that Splinter and April were unable to see anything. 

The boys yelled and pointed in response, just as blinded in the dark as the others, but no doubt relieved by the sound of Donatello’s voice. 

He lunged forward, sprinting across the length of the lab. He got about halfway to the cells when he realized the brothers were shooing him away, shaking heads and pointing fingers towards the exit. 

Donatello turned too late. He felt the ground rumble beneath him before vines erupted from the dirt. He was chucked into the air, arms pinned as shouts of surprise sounded all around him. Donatello struggled, flailing his legs and trying desperately to swing his bo or power on his wrist tech, but the vines only tightened, and soon he was struggling to simply keep breathing. 

Then the lab’s artificial lights flickered on, and Donatello’s goggles regulated, the green hue of the night vision feature fading to reveal the scene in front of him in clear colors. 

Splinter and April had been hoisted into the air on his right. They appeared to be in the same boat as Donatello, but although he had given up struggling, they had not. To his left were Raph, Leo, and Mikey, still on the ground and stuck in their cells. Their mouths were still covered, and although they were doing everything in their power to tear and shred any vine within arm’s length, they didn’t appear to be having much luck. 

Lastly, in front of everyone, at the end of the lab, stood Draxum. He looked unimpressed as always, regarding Donatello and his team with a bored glare, hands folded calmly behind his back, Huginn and Muninn perched on his shoulders, the former holding Mikey and Raph’s weapons, and the latter holding Leo’s. 

“Well, well, well,” Draxum said, “how completely predictable of you.” 

Donatello coughed as a vine squeezed his throat. His arms were already starting to ache from the pressure of being pinned, but something told him that that would soon be the least of his problems. 

“Hey- hey Donato!” Muninn greeted awkwardly, “we, uh...didn’t think you’d come back.” 

Donatello ignored the pang in his heart, not meeting the gargoyles’ eyes. 

“I heard you come in, you know,” Draxum continued, “you’re not as stealthy as you once were. But I must thank you for coming nonetheless. Now I have all my creations in one place. I can  _ finally _ finish what I set out to do all those years ago.” 

“Fat chance, Draxy,” April spat, “‘cuz the way I see it, we’re about to take the boys and jet.” 

Did she have a plan? Donatello couldn’t read her well enough to know. 

Draxum chuckled, “your determination is almost endearing...for a human. But I’m afraid you’re wrong. As a gesture of good faith, however, I am willing to release you and your...rat. I have no need for either of you. You may go.” 

“We are not going anywhere!” Splinter said without hesitation, “not without my sons- all of them!” 

“ _ Your _ sons?” Draxum said, “you are delusional, old man.” 

Splinter opened his mouth to protest, but April beat him to it. 

“Look, we’d prefer to keep this short and sweet, so here’s my best offer,” she said, “you let all of us go, and we leave without tearing you  _ and _ your mad scientist lab a new one.” 

Where was she getting all this confidence from? They had absolutely nothing on Draxum.

“Well, as tempting as that sounds...I do not believe you’re in any position to be making demands, human,” Draxum said. 

April just shrugged -the best she could when restrained by vines, anyway. 

“Then this is 100% on you.” 

Before Draxum got the chance to force an explanation out of her, there was a flash of blue light and the Agent appeared in the air above him. Donatello gasped as he slammed into Draxum’s face, scratching and shrieking, latching on with his claws and not letting go. 

Draxum screamed and reared back, grabbing the Agent by the back of his pelt as Huginn and Muninn quickly fled from the chaos in opposite directions. With Draxum effectively distracted, his vines all recoiled into the ground. Their grip on Donatello fell completely slack, and he dropped softly to the floor, wincing under the dull ache of his ankle, but otherwise unharmed, along with April and Splinter. 

“Pops!”

To Donatello’s left, the vines muffling Raph, Leo, and Mikey had also retracted, allowing the brothers to speak once more, faces pressed against the fronts of their cells as they reached through. 

“My boys!” 

Splinter made a move to run to them, but he was knocked back by the sudden snap of a vine splitting from the earth. 

“Splints!” April cried. 

Another vine shot up at her, but she knocked it back with a hit from her bat. 

Donatello whipped around just in time to see Draxum pry the Agent off of his face, revealing an array of swelled scratches. Draxum chucked the Agent to the side, and he teleported once more, appearing back on April’s shoulder. 

“Get the boys out!” April said, fending off another vine with a grunt and strike of her bat, “we’ll take care of Draxum!” 

“Are you sure?!” Donatello asked. 

“Get them out!” April said, “we’ll be right behind you!” 

She was clearly capable of handling herself, so Donatello nodded and turned to run to the cages holding his brothers captive. 

He slid down, kneeling in front of Mikey’s cell and slamming his tech bo in front of him. Before he could get to work sawing at the vines, however, Mikey reached his arms through and wrapped them around Donatello’s shoulders. 

“You came back to save us!” 

The touch nearly froze him, but, someone, he managed to raise a hand and squeeze Mikey back. 

“I couldn’t leave you here when the only reason you got into this mess was because of me,” he said. 

“Hey, this ain’t your fault,” Raph said, “we came here ‘cuz we wanted to help you-”

“Uh, yeah, yeah, great family bonding moment, guys, but maybe we should save it for another time!” Leo interjected. 

Pulling away from Mikey’s embrace, Donatello looked over his shoulder to see Splinter and April going toe-to-toe with Draxum, Huginn, and Munnin. And between the whip of vines and echo of battle cries, Donatello couldn’t tell who was winning. 

“Leo’s right,” Donatello said, “we need to go.” 

He wasted no more time equipping the saw attachment on the top of his battle shell. He sliced through the vines separating him and Mikey in no time, and as soon as the smallest brother tumbled out, he moved on to Leo’s cell. He worked with concentration and focus, and even when he heard April scream and Mikey ran off to help, he didn’t turn away. He couldn’t afford to get distracted. 

Finally, the vines trapping Leo were sliced enough to allow him to slip through, and Leo wasted no time running off to help his brother. So Donatello moved on to Raph. 

“Hey,” Raph said, and Donatello reluctantly met his eye as he sawed through the vines. 

“Thanks for showing up,” Raph said, “if I’m being totally honest-”

“You didn’t think I would,” Donatello finished for him, “it’s understandable. I wouldn’t have expected me to, either.” 

“But you  _ did _ ,” Raph said, reaching his arm through the vines to rest his hand on Donatello’s shoulder, “you’re saving us, man. You’re Mad Dog now! A straight-up good guy!” 

Donatello stopped at those words, frozen as his saw continued to shred air between a broken strand of vine. 

A good guy? Was that true? Donatello used to think he was good when he was with Draxum, but the alchemist had recently proved him otherwise. He wasn’t so sure he could even trust himself at that point.

But with the way Raph was looking down at him with pure, unfiltered pride and compassion...Donatello knew he could trust  _ him _ . 

“Well...let’s get you out of here, then you can feel free to tell me how amazing I am,” Donatello said, and quickly sliced through the remainder of vines. 

After Raph emerged from his cell, the two brothers turned back to the fight at hand, and Donatello’s jaw dropped at how what was supposed to be a simple distraction had descended into so much chaos. 

Mikey and Leo had both pried their weapons from Huginn and Muninn and also appeared to be holding Raph’s tonfas, which they threw to him as soon as they realized he was standing there. April, ferocious as ever, was quite literally batting 1,000 against Draxum’s vines. She was knocking them down left and right alongside Mikey and Leo, trying to keep the plants and bay in an attempt to help Splinter, who was fighting Draxum head-on with nothing more than his martial arts skills and snapping tail. 

They needed to get out of there. 

“Hey, guys!” Raph called to the others, “time to split!” 

Apparently, he had been thinking the same thing. 

“No!” Draxum bellowed, only just having noticed his escaped captives. He knocked Splinter to the side with a sharp kick, then raised his hand, summoning a wave of vines from the ground that April, Mikey, and Leo quickly sprung to knock back. 

“The doors!” Raph said, then shoved Donatello in the direction of the exit. 

Donatello wasted no time sprinting forward, trying to minimize his time on the battlefield, ducking under snapping vines, and avoiding the rapid swing of weapons. Before he could make it across the lab, however, a wave of vines shot out from the ground in front of him, quickly blocking off the exit doors. Donatello was forced to a screeching stop, and slowly Splinter, April, and the rest of the brothers fell back around him. 

“Enough,” Draxum said, raising his arms as he advanced on them slowly, “stop this, Donatello. We both know where you belong.” 

Donatello opened his mouth to argue, but the others beat him to it. 

“He belongs with us!” Raph said, stepping forward with his tonfas raised.

“Yeah!” Mikey said, “he’s our brother, and he’s coming home!” 

Donatello swallowed to force down the lump in his throat. He was so certain they’d be angry with him. He was certain they wouldn’t want him to come back. How were they still calling him their brother? 

“Well, if you simply refuse to part with him, then I’ll just have to take all four of you.” 

The vines that had been curling over Draxum’s head suddenly shot forward, and Donatello flinched, raising his tech bo to shield his face. 

But Splinter was in the air before any of them could react. With a flurry of disciplined kicks and punches, the vines went shooting back across the lab, retreating back into the earth before Splinter landed to face Draxum. 

“I will not let you take my sons from me again!” he growled, keeping his fighting stance tight, ready to jump into action at the slightest sign of movement. 

Draxum scoffed, “Donatello is not your son. He does not have your DNA, and you certainly did not raise him.”

Donatello’s grip on his bo tightened. He hated being talked about like he wasn’t there.

“As a matter of fact, none of these turtles are not your sons. I created them! They are my experiments, and they belong to me!” 

Splinter growled, and for a terrifying few moments, no one said anything. 

Donatello could feel his heart pounding in his chest. It was deafening and he was convinced that the others had to be able to hear it. Certainly Raph and Mikey did, standing on his left and right respectively, weapons raised, ready to spring into action. Or maybe even April, who stood beside Mikey, or Leo, who stood beside Raph. But their eyes were all trained unblinkingly on Splinter and Draxum. 

“Whether or not I am their father is a decision I am happy to let  _ them _ make,” Splinter growled, “but I think you’ll find that we  _ do _ have the same DNA!” 

“Enough talk, rat!” 

Another wave of vines erupted from the ground, swarming Splinter and temporarily blocking him from the others’ view. But soon he went right back to knocking them away, propelling himself into the air with a spinning jump that put him above the chaos. 

Vines flocked after him, pinning limbs and snapping to pull him back down, but Splinter broke free with a single twist and pull. 

“Hot soup!” 

“Hot soup?!” 

Splinter landed uninjured on the ground, and Draxum’s vines involuntarily slithered away. 

“It can’t be- how is this possible?!” 

Draxum seemed thoroughly shocked, and borderline lost for words. Donatello wasn’t sure he’d ever seen his composure slip this much. 

“I will give you three guesses,” Splinter spat.

“But- no...you cannot possibly be the mutated Lou Jitsu! He would have transformed into a fearless warrior, not some pitiful rat!” 

“Do not let appearances deceive you,” Splinter said, “I am still as fearless as the day we met. Now, let my family go, or you will suffer the consequences.” 

Draxum was weighing his options now, Donatello could tell. Lou Jitsu had already destroyed his progress once before, and now he had even more to lose. 

“I have worked far too hard to allow you to destroy my experiment any further! Your sons will leave this place over my dead body!” 

With that, they charged. Splinter and Draxum ran at each other, vines flying and snapping, then they collided and everything fell into pure chaos. 

April and the brothers began to shout and run, desperate to help, or, at the very least, get out of the way of the hurricane of fists and fury that was raging all across the lab.

But Donatello was frozen in place. He couldn’t seem to remember how to move his legs, but his eyes followed Splinter and Draxum as they clashed. A vine struck Splinter across the face, and as he hit the ground his tail snapped around Draxum’s leg, pulling and sending the alchemist crashing to the dirt.

Donatello almost ran to help, then realized he didn’t trust his own mind to choose.

He didn’t trust either of them, not completely. They had both perfected a deceptive cover, and both claimed that the other was the villain. But Donatello didn’t know who to believe. His moral compass was just as skewed as ever, spinning wildly and urging him to do  _ something _ , but giving him no clue as to what that something was. 

Draxum reeled backward as Splinter delivered a punch to his chin. 

Draxum had deceived and gaslit him so much in the past few days, but he had raised him. He was his  _ father _ . 

Splinter was slammed against a nearby wall by a vine, stuttering and gasping for air.

Splinter had left him behind and deceived his sons about being Lou Jitsu, but he had been there for him, he had helped him despite everything else. He was the biological father of his brothers. He was  _ his _ father. 

All around him, the others were doing their best to pull Draxum and Splinter apart. But every time they got too close, a vine would knock them away. They couldn’t keep these attacks up, Donatello knew that. But they didn’t seem to. 

Although Leo stumbled and tripped over his own feet, he still charged and sliced through vines to try and reach Splinter. Although Raph was panting, scrapes littering his body, he didn’t think to stop, either. Although Mikey had been knocked to the ground, beaten and bruised so many times, he didn’t give up. And although April had blood clotting her forehead and chunks of wood flying off her bat, she went roaring in to save Splinter without a second thought. She wasn’t even technically related to them, but she fought like she’d been part of their family since day one. 

They were relentless and reckless, but they were brave and they knew exactly who and what they were fighting for. Donatello was none of those things.

But maybe he didn’t need to be. 

He may not have trusted Draxum or Splinter, he may not have known which one was really his father, but he did trust his siblings. He trusted the fire and passion they fought with as they charged Draxum again and again, no matter how many times they failed. When worse came to worse, he trusted them, and he knew they trusted him, too.

“Raph!” he called. His cry was almost lost in the shouts and clang of weapons, but thankfully the oldest brother heard, pulling himself to a stop just before he could mount another attack. 

“The central pillar!” Donatello said, “take it down! We’re destroying this lab!” 

“What?!” 

_ That _ caught Draxum’s attention.

“Aw, yeah!” Raph said, beaming as his tonfas began to spark with bright red light, “now we’re talking!” 

“No! Stop this at once!” 

Draxum lunged for Raph, but Splinter shoved him back with a swift kick, and April knocked him against the nearest wall with a crack of her bat. 

Donatello watched as Raph climbed his way up the pillar, tonfas sparking a shielding his body with red magic the closer he got. Donatello heard Draxum’s screams of protest and ignored them, then Raph reached the top of the pillar and slammed his fist against the main energy source. 

“No!” 

There was a flash of white light and Donatello’s ears popped, ringing as the light subsided. When he could finally see again, the pillar was sparking and crumbling, the roof it had been supporting shaking with the threat of caving in. Then he saw Raph falling from the top of the pillar, and he wasted no time diving to save him. 

Sending a quick command to his battle shell, he slid up right underneath Raph, bracing himself as his battle shell deployed two sets of mechanical limbs, catching the oldest brother with a creak and a whirl, fighting to keep steady under the turtle’s weight. 

“Woah- that was awesome, D!” Raph said, climbing out of Donatello’s hold, clutching his tonfas as the light began to fade from them. The ceiling above them continued to crumble, but Raph didn’t seem in any hurry to get out. 

“How’d you know to do that?” he asked. 

“...I helped him build it,” Donatello admitted, ashamed. 

“Hey, guys!” 

The brothers turned to see the rest of their family grouped together, Leo anxiously waving them down, no doubt eager to escape the lab before Draxum or the falling debris prevented them from doing so. 

Raph wasted no time grabbing Donatello’s arm and dragging him back to the group as the metal limbs retracted into his battle shell. They reached the others, Mikey grabbed Donatello’s free arm, and they made a break for the exit. 

“Wait!” April said, grabbing the top of Donatello’s battle shell to pull the group to a stop, “where’s Mayhem?!” 

Mayhem? Oh, right. April had given the Agent a name. 

Just as Donatello shrugged his arms from Raph and Mikey’s grips to start looking, there was a flash of blue light and the Agent popped into existence on April’s shoulder. 

“Alright, let’s get out of here!” 

Donatello fell to the back of the group as they ran, pushing everyone in front of him and making sure that they would get to the door first. Then a voice behind made him stop. 

“Donato? Where...where you goin’, man?” 

It was Muninn. He’d almost forgotten the gargoyles had been there because they’d left Draxum’s shoulders as soon as the Agent had pounced. But, from the look of it, they’d gotten a pretty decent beating themselves. There were scratches scattered all across their bodies, and Donatello couldn’t help but stare as they fluttered down to land on Draxum’s shoulders. The alchemist had a wild and fearful look in his eyes as he directed his vines to push against the collapsing ceiling, though they didn’t appear to be doing much to help. 

Draxum met Donatello’s eyes, and he gave one last sneer before looking away. He was above begging, Donatello knew. There was nothing more for either of them to say. 

“Donato?” Huginn called. 

He turned away, back to the others. 

“Donato! Where are you going?!” 

Draxum said something he couldn’t make out, and the gargoyles stopped calling him.

Donatello’s heart throbbed as he followed his family through the exit, then he heard a whisper, a quiet goodbye from behind him, and there was a flash of blue light as the world began to morph.

The Agent teleported them back to the ridge beside their exit portal, and Donatello said nothing the entire way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My day be so fine, then boom Huginn and Muninn angst
> 
> Yeah, I'm not sure why those boys get me so emotional, but they do. I just really like the role I decided to give them in this story- it's one of my favorite things about it, because I adore their characters so much :) Anyway, I did have a great time writing this chapter, and I hope you guys had a great time reading it, even with all the angst!


	13. The Mental Toll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that Draxum has been defeated and everyone has safely returned home, Donato is able to make a hefty decision about his future, and finally start his road to recovery, though it's a very long and winding path, and no one truly knows in which direction it will take him.

Donatello certainly wasn’t expecting to feel at home in the lair right away, but he’d hoped he would have at least not felt like such an intruder in his new place of residence. And this was it, because, now that he’d officially ruined any chance he had of going back to Draxum, this was his new home. 

So why did it feel so cold and uninviting? Why did Donatello feel like he belonged quite literally anywhere else as he sat on the arm of Splinter’s chair, staring blankly at the wall in front of him, completely lost in thought as Leo checked him over for injuries, talking loudly and excitedly with Mikey about the escape they’d just performed. Everyone seemed to be in a good mood. Everyone except him. 

Mikey knelt beside April on the floor, deflating the previously used air mattress while April packed away the strewn contents of the first aid kit, the Agent scampering wildly around her, playing with discarded bandage packages. Dontaello was also sure April had asked him to help restore her bat -it had been nearly wacked in half during their mission- and he had absentmindedly agreed. Now he owed her a new computer  _ and _ bat. 

The only ones who didn’t appear to be engaged with the rest of the group were Splinter and Raph, who were talking quietly off by the doorway, both holding hot mugs, and keeping their voices relatively low. 

Before Donatello could think about getting up to investigate, however, Leo suddenly began poking at the clamps of his battle shell. 

“Hey- no!” Donatello said, slapping his hand away and jumping back to his feet. 

“What?” Leo asked, “your shell’s soft, right? Dad said we should take a look at it.” 

“It is  _ fine _ ,” Donatello crossed his arms over his plastron and held himself higher, “it does not need inspecting, and if it did, I could do it myself.” 

Leo opened his mouth -likely to object- but Splinter beat him to the punch by calling everyone’s attention.

“Uh, excuse me?” he said, stepping out to the middle of the room as the group turned to watch him, “may I say a few words?” 

No one interjected, so he continued. 

“I would like to...apologize,” he said, “I know I have not been a very great father as of late, and while I did intend to tell you all about my past...it has not been a part of me for many years. I simply did not realize it would come into play so  _ soon _ . But I am glad you know. And I hope we will be able to move past this, my sons.” 

He certainly sounded genuine, but Donatello couldn’t help but still feel ill at ease. Even as Raph, Leo, and Mikey moved to embrace their father, declaring forgiveness and expressing how much they still loved him, Donatello hung back. 

It still didn’t feel quite right. 

He didn’t know if it ever would.

\---

After Splinter’s public apology, everyone seemed to finally fall back into routine and began splitting off to do their own things throughout the lair. 

April packed her bag and used the Agent’s teleportation abilities to get her home, though with the promise to return to hang out and check on her computer process, so soon it was just Donatello, Splinter, and the brothers left. But Raph, Leo, and Mikey eventually split off to head back to their rooms -it was getting late, after all, he supposed- and Splinter excused himself to go make another pot of tea in the kitchen. 

Donatello was alone in the living room, and he had no idea where to go from there. 

It was a huge step up from spending the night in an alleyway, of course, but it soon donned on him that he still had nowhere to sleep. The air mattress had been folded up and packed away, leaving him with the choice of either a bean bag, or Splinter’s chair. And, because Splinter’s chair smelt so strongly of cheese and had crumbs littering the seat, Donatello opted for sleeping on a bean bag. 

He ultimately settled down on the purple one, the furthest away from all the other seats, curling up with his arms around his middle, fingers brushing against the edges of his battle shell to give him some semblance of familiarity. 

After a few moments, Donatello found himself shivering. Goosebumps were forming on his skin, and no matter how tightly he held himself, he couldn’t seem to warm up. That was an effect of being mainly cold-blooded, he supposed, and silently cursed his biology for subjecting him to such an inconvenience. 

Then there was a warm hand on his shoulder, and Donatello flinched, swinging his arms out as a voice shrieked in surprise, jumping backwards and out of his range. 

It was Splinter. He was holding two cups of tea and looking thoroughly concerned, so Donatello relaxed, stretching his arms back to rest against his makeshift bed. 

“Yes?” he asked. 

“I made you a cup of tea,” Splinter explained, “I didn’t mean to startle you.” 

He extended his left cup to him, and Donatello slowly reached out to take it, chilled hands immediately warmed by the contents of the cup, sending a warm shiver through his body as he held it to his lips. 

“You seem cold,” Splinter said, “you know, you do not have to sleep-”

“Ah- I am already settled down,” Donatello interjected, “I will be fine.” 

He wasn’t sure where his stubbornness was coming from, but he didn’t want to move from the bean bag. Not on Splinter’s accord, at least.

So the two of them fell into a mutual silence, Splinter taking a seat on the red bean bag across from him as Donatello began to sip his beverage. He wasn’t entirely sure he’d had tea before, but he couldn’t deny that he liked it. The heat was his favorite part, but there was also an aspect of sweetness that also caught his attention, and while there was a hint of something herb-like, Donatello couldn’t place the exact flavor. 

“Donatello?” 

Splinter was looking at him now, with a far softer expression and his cup of tea abandoned on the floor. 

“I must apologize.” 

Why? He’d already said his piece in front of the group. 

“To you,” Splinter clarified, as if he could sense his confusion, “just you this time. I do not know what Draxum told you about me, but, if it is true, I will not deny it. You deserve the truth, and I never intended to get you or any of my sons swept up in our feud. I realize you have chosen to make sacrifices, and I can only say I am dreadful sorry for being a part of forcing those upon you.” 

Donatello’s grip on his cup tightened. There was a lump in his throat now that he couldn’t force down. 

“You are just a boy,” Splinter continued, “you deserve so much better than what you have been through. So, whatever question is on your mind, you may ask.”

Donatello’s eyes widened: was he actually volunteering to give up any of his secrets? Well, Donatello only cared about one. So he asked the question that had been plaguing him ever since they’d met. 

“Were you actually happy to see me?” 

Splinter seemed surprised by his choice. He was taken aback, and needed a moment to process it. 

“What?” 

“When I first came here,” Donatello elaborated, “you saw me and swore you never meant to leave me behind. Was that the truth? Did you  _ really _ want to see me again?” 

“Of course.”

Donatello was surprised by his quick reply. 

“I  _ never _ meant to abandon you, Donatello,” he said, “I would have searched for you, but I had to protect my boys. I didn’t think you’d survived. I didn’t think you would ever return to me, but I am so very glad you did. And I know our family would be very happy to see you stay here with us.” 

Donatello hadn’t even realized that was an option. He’d automatically assumed he had nowhere else to go, and it hadn’t occurred to him that he could very well just up and leave without a word. Put everything behind him if he so chose. 

Donatello shook his head. No. He didn’t care where he was: his home was with his family. 

“I’m...staying,” he said, “thank you. For...considering me. Draxum told me a lot of things, and I’m trying to figure out which are actually true.”

Splinter gave him a smile, “well, if you ever need help, I’m sure I can think of a few boys who would gladly be of assistance.”

As if on cue, Donatello heard shuffling in the doorway, and Leo’s voice brought their quiet conversation to an end. 

“Hey, D!” he said, “come on! We’ve got something to show you!” 

Donatello looked over his shoulder to see Raph, Leo, and Mikey waiting just outside the room. The latter was practically bouncing with excitement, while the former two couldn’t seem to stop smiling. 

“Go,” Splinter told him, “I will be here all night if you need me.”

“You don’t need to-”

“No, against my own will, I will be here all night,” Splinter said, face falling, “Scorpion Treadmill has been airing new episodes, and I cannot resist watching them. Even when I want to.”

Donatello had no idea what Scorpion Treadmill was, but he couldn’t help but smile nonetheless, even if he didn’t intend on taking Splinter up on the offer. 

“Thank you,” he said, pushing himself up from his bean bag chair as Splinter took his cup, “uh...enjoy your treadmill scorpions.” 

As Splinter retreated to sitting on his chair, Donatello turned and made his way to the hall where his brothers were gathered, jumping as Mikey grabbed his hand to pull him along, but let himself be dragged nevertheless. 

It was when they got about halfway down the hall and past Mikey’s room that he realized he had no idea where they were going. But he didn’t need to wait long to figure it out, because as soon as they began nearing the end of the hall, Mikey came to a stop in front of a doorway obscured by a purple curtain. 

“Okay, before you go in-” Leo blocked him with an arm across the doorway “-we didn’t have a  _ huge _ amount of time, and we’ve never exactly ‘built’ anything before-”

“ _ I _ think it’s nice and we worked hard on it!” Mikey said, releasing Donatello’s hand. 

“Yeah, obviously, but I’m just telling him not to get his hopes up-”

“Outta the way,” Raph interjected, pushing Leo aside to stand in the doorway himself, “uh, what we’re tryna say is...welcome to your new room!” 

He pulled the curtain out of the way, and Leo and Mikey pushed Donatello inside.

For a moment, he stood frozen, needing time to process exactly what was happening. Then it hit him, and he couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face. 

It was his room. They’d made him his  _ own _ room. 

There was an old dresser and slightly chipped wooden desk to his right, and in the top left corner was a mattress draped with a collection of purple blankets and pillows, supported by a rickety bed frame that appeared to be on the verge of collapse. There was a string of violet lights that stretched around the ceiling, as well as purple-hued graffiti that had been spray painted all across the walls and ceiling. While the air still smelled of the artificial paint, and it was only a few degrees warmer than the living room, Donatello was still incredibly touched that it was there to begin with. 

“Yeah, uh, the bedframe-”

“Leo found it lying in the scrap room with a bunch of complicated instructions,” Raph explained, cutting the blue-clad turtle off, “we ain’t...uh...builders, so if it breaks in the middle of the night, blame Leo.”

“Hey!”

“I did the graffiti!” Mikey said, “I, uh...did a  _ lot _ of graffiti.” 

“Yeah, overboard much?” Leo whispered, “it was supposed to be  _ subtle _ . Now it smells like paint, and there’s so much purple, I can’t feel my eyes.” 

“You said to embrace my artistic flow!” Mikey argued, “you wanted purple!” 

“Yeah, I wanted a  _ little _ purple, not enough to make it look like you drenched the whole place in eggplant guts!” 

“Eggplants are  _ white _ on the inside!” 

“Says who?!” 

“Guys!” Raph snapped, “uh, more important things to be focusing on? Remember?” 

“Right, right,” Leo said, taking a deep breath as the three brothers turned back to Donatello, “our point is...we tried.” 

Infuriatingly, Donatello had no idea what to say. He opened his mouth to speak several times, but only continued to fall short of words. 

“So...do you like it?” Raph asked. He and his brothers were watching him anxiously, trying and failing to garner his reaction looks and expressions.

Donatello took one last glance around the room, and smiled. 

“I love it,” he said. 

“Yes!” Mikey cheered, jabbing Leo with his elbow, “see? The purple  _ wasn’t _ too much!” 

“Whatever,” Leo said, “we’re just glad you like it.”

“Yeah!” Raph said, “we would’ve done more, but-”

“It’s perfect,” Donatello assured him, “I...I never expected anything like this. Thank you very much.” 

“Well, of course!” Mikey said, “where else were you going to sleep?” 

Donatello decided not to mention the bean bag chair. 

“Alright, well, we should probably get to hitting the hay,” Raph said, “get some rest, D. We’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Goodnight,” Donatello said, watching as his brothers made their way out through the curtain, Raph, being the last to leave, pulling it closed behind him. 

Once they’d left, Donatello stood there for a moment, relishing in the calm of the room and the distant sounds of his brothers making their way to bed. Donatello saw great potential in his new room, especially with all the materials he’d seen in the boys’ scrap collection. He could make his own set of monitors, rebuild all the tech he’d left with Draxum, and maybe even recreate his old lab. There was a new world of possibilities now, but Donatello was exhausted, and his unsteady bed was beginning to look more and more inviting. 

So he removed his tech and accessories, arranging them on his desk, finding peace in the familiar routine, even when he removed his limb clamps and his muscles began to ache. The adrenaline of the day had long since worn off, and he was once more reminded of the injuries he’d endured. His ankle throbbed with a dull pain as he made his way to his bed, taking a seat on the edge of the creaking mattress to test if it would hold his weight. 

After a minute, it had yet to break, so he climbed in, burying himself under the layers of blankets, grateful for the heat and familiar scent that had marked Mikey’s room when he first spent the night. He couldn’t quite place it, but it smelt like home. 

And that’s how he fell asleep. Curled up in the bed that he fully planned to rebuild the next morning because, as honorable as their intentions were, his brothers were not engineers. 

But for tonight, he didn’t mind. Even if they couldn’t put together furniture to save their lives, Donnie didn’t love them any less.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, last chapter, huh? Bet you didn't see that coming   
> Yes, while I did plan to make this the last chapter for a while, I sincerely enjoyed writing this story and I know many of you expected there to be a bit more about what happens with Donnie in the future, and if I'm being totally honest, I'd like to explore that as well. So my question is: would you guys be interested in a bit of a Q&A about the story and any hypothetical future chapters? You could ask as many questions as you'd like, and I'd give answers in the form of short replies/lists/drabbles. This would likely be done on my Tumblr to make it easier on myself, but if you guys would prefer I stick to ao3 I could always post another chapter and keep everything on there!   
> Or, if you'd prefer I didn't do a Q&A and just let the story end already, let me know that, too! You can feel free to send things in on my Tumblr (orange-meringue) if it's easier, and it's likely where I'll be posting updates about the story in general   
> But whatever I end up doing, I want to thank you all so much for reading this story and showing it support. Thank you to anyone who as ever left me a comment or kudos -I hope you loved reading it as much as I loved writing it


End file.
